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1 

2 

3 

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4 

5 

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NARRATIVE 


OF  THE 


LIEE    AND    SUFFERINGS 


OP 


WILLIAM  B.  LIGHTON; 


COXTAINLVS 
AJT  rXTERESTINa  AXD   FArTHFCL   ACCOU.VT   OF   niS   EVRTV    rrrr 

ESCAPE     FKOM     CAPXIVITV.     AND     SETTlii^  ' 

MENT    IN  Tire   UNITED   STATES. 


WRITTEN    BY    HIMSELF. 


God  is  my  Guide-^Virtue  and  Ht 


eaven  my  reward. 


NEW   AND    REVISED    EDITION, 

EMBELLISHED     WITH     TExN     STEFT    rw^ 

ibJS     STEEL   ENGRAVINGS. 


TROY:     - 

PRINTED  BY  J.  C.  KNEELAND,  &  GO. 
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Eiitoreil  accordinc:  to  Act  of  Contj'reP3,  in  the  year  1840, 

By  Wii.MAM  Beebev  Lighton, 

In  the  Clerk's  Oflloe  of  the  District  Court  of  Ma^sichusetta. 


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PREFACE. 


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Many  of  the  virtuous  and  the  icood,  whose  lives  have  heen  distin- 
guished for  usefulness,  hnve  contributed  to  the  literature  of  the  -vorld 
by  publishinj?  their  biographies;  thereby  promoting  the  rause  of  truth, 
morality,  and  reliirion,  and  perpetuating  their  memories  among  the 
living.  Though  the  writer  may  shine  with  far  inferior  lustre,  in  the 
scale  of  intellectual  and  moral  greatness,  to  many  who  have  written, 
yet  he  would  meekly  present  to  the  public  a  narniiivi-  nf  his  young  and 
eventful  career  ;  a  rareer  which  has  been  marked  with  soiiic  of  the 
njost  remarkable  ocrurreneef,an(l  which  are  not  less  inti^resiing  from  hav- 
ing t)een  snifered  a'  so  early  hh  age.  Of  the  merits  of  these  assertions 
the  impartial  reader  is  left  to  judge. 

The  writer  trusts  that  he  possesses  nothing  of  assumptive  arrogance, 
nor  the  work  any  thing  of  fietieions  novelty.  It  is  a  plain,  unvarnished 
statement  of  real  facts  as  they  have  occurred,  and  of  sutlerings  as  they 
have  been  endured.  The  reader,  then,  must  pardon  its  errors  ;  and, 
rather  than  pierce  it  with  a  dagger  of  criticism,  he  will  cover  all  its 
faults  with  a  mantle  of  mercy. 

The  object  of  wrilina  it  will  be  obtained, if  it  .shall  exhibit  the  good- 
neas  of  (iod,  correct  the'  evil  pa.ssions  of  the  heart,  enforce  jjarental 
obedience,  promote  generous  sentiments,  elevate  the  standard  of  mo- 
rality, and  purify  the  taste  of  the  youth,  to  whom  it  is  most  sincerely 
dedicated. 

It  was  not  originally  the  design  qf  the  author  to  publish  his  Narra- 
tive at  so  early  a  period  of  his  life,  but  to  have  withheld  it  from  the 
world  until  (if  he  lived)  lie  was  further  advanced  in  years,  or  have  left  it 
in  manuscript,  to  be  pul>lishi.'d  after  his  decease.  But  the  ardent  solici- 
tude felt  by  his  bereaved  and  afHJcted  parents,  who  have  for  a  number 
of  years  suffered  severe  mental  an.xiety  and  grief,  from  the  author's  sutl- 
den  St!paration  from  them  in  the  bud  of  early  youth,  and  his  absence  in 
n  foreign  land,  ignorant  of  the  dangers  and  sufferings  to  which  he  was 
exposed, — probably  never  to  meet  them  again  on  the  shores  of  time, — 
and  the  earnest,  importunate  desire  expressed  in  their  letters  to  have  it 
immediately  put  to  press,  when  they  learned  its  general  events  by  a 
correspondence  ; — these  were  reasons  too  powerful  in  their  claims  not 
to  be  acceded  to  with  sentiments  of  childlike  afTection  and  gratitude. 
Added  to  this  is  the  conviction  that  the  events  inibodied  in  the  work 
ore  of  sufficient  mterest  to  justify  their  publication. 

The  author  feels  that  all  his  suflerings  have  arisen  from  disobedience 
to  his  parents,  and  a  reckless  spirit  of  adventure.     He  has,  therefore, 


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4  ^  PREFACE. 

written  this  ns  a  wnriiinc;  to  the  risinir  {rcnorntion,  liopjnc  it  "i»»y  prove 
Ji  f'lu'ck  to  lln'  violent  passionfl  of  the  yoiinir  »nil  th<»ii).'htlfss,  ami  (fo 
pood  ;  iiiid  thai  it  may,  on  thcae  accounts,  !)!.•  sanclion«.Hi  by  every 
Christian  and  j>hilanthropist. 

These  being  the  motives  from  which  the  foUowmff  paiDfcs  have  been 
coni[)iled,  lie  would  present  them  to  the  candid  public,  in  unison  with 
the  ticntiments  and  wishes  of  friends  and  kindred,  vho  are  far  separated 
from  him  by  the  mighty  deep,  with  a  desire  that  tin  y  may  be  rendered 
a  blessing  both  to  tliem  and  to  every  American  youth. 

That  the  bk'ssing  of  God  may  rest  upon  the  work,  is  the  sincere 
yravrr  v( 

'the  author. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  nutlior's  hirtli.  Parents.  Family  afHktions.  A  mother  In-law.  Supersti- 
tious ro!»nr(l  nf  the  roUin.  Ednnitlon.  Love  of  amuscincnt.  DisobfiUence. — 
Detected  :n  robMng  n  giirUcn.  Pouching  iinil  {{iiiuc  Inws  of  Eiighinil.  Parental 
Hovernaient.  Preparntion  for  a  sea  \t)yaKo.  Disaintointuient.  Emigration. — 
A  Inzy  emigrant.    Iiuitortanco  of  the  period  of  you'.h p.  i> 

CHAPTER  11. 

New  situations.  Ill  usage.  The  author  hecomas  a  wanderer.  Tho  drover's 
Infiratitudc.  Becomes  a  groom.  The  discovery.  Returns  home.  Kindness  of 
parents.  Goes  to  service  amiin.  Unkind  and  cruel  treatment.  Runs  away.— • 
A  wicived  companion.  Ohliged  to  heg.  Cli.ats  the  inn-k'-cpcr.  Lincoln  de- 
scribed. Returns  homo  in  aflliction.  Cold  reception.  Filial  duty,  l-caves 
home  again.  The  separation.  A  mother's  afl'ection.  New  situation.  A  scold- 
Becomes  a  wanderer  again.  Mote  troubles.  (Jll'ers  to  enlist.  A  cunning 
trick.  Enlists  in  the  York  militia.  A  dishonorable  gentleman,  ttctaliution.— 
Enlists  in  the  riflo  corps p.  35 

CHAPTER  IIL 

March  of  recruits  to  tho  Isle  of  Wight.  Canute  the  Great.  Arrival  at  Newport. 
Military  discipline.  Short  rations.  The  theft.  Its  discovery  and  cruel  pun- 
ishment. Uneasiness  of  mind.  Visit  to  an  old  castle.  Drumming  out.  Letter 
from  home,  i^ickness.  Recovery.  Orders  for  marching.  Sejiaration  of  soldiers 
from  tlieir  wive.s.  English  aristocracy.  The  maimed  sohher.  The  cmbarka. 
tlon.    Apostrophe  to  home p.  51 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  voj'age.  Its  prosperous  beginning.  The  storm.  Approach  to  land.  Nar- 
row cscniKJs  from  shipwreck.  Sufferings  for  want  of  water.  Tyranny  of  offi- 
cers. Arrival  at  Quebec.  Exultation  of  the  troops.  Sails  to  Montreal.  Lands. 
The  barracks.  Character  and  apjtearance  of  the  old  troops.  Urbanity  of 
offieers.  Early  privileges.  Visits  buildings  of  Montreal.  Desires  for  homo.— 
An  extract p.  68 

CHAPTER  V. 
Commencement  of  active  military  duties.    The  drill.    Annoyance  from  iniects.  — 
An  expedient.    Punishment  of  the  vicious.    Amiable  character  of  our  colonel. 


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nil  removal.  Charncter  of  tilfi  aupcossor.  Do'ortloin.  A  llnpiglnK  «r«>n« 
desrrlbi'd.  Tho  ivit-n'-nlno  tills.  <'onllriiiiit:oii  of  iheso  crufUit^.  Anccdotp. 
Hecrncy  nf  thr.sp  piiiiUhinenU.  Tho  pnriulu  pround.  Kna|mnck  drill.  The 
dOHcrlor  punishod.  A  trnltor  to  lutmanlty.  Escape  of  DackenhoiHcn  Ptiiio 
of  author's  mind.  IntclltTtual  purfiiUi.  Desires  for  dischnrtse.  DccnineH  an 
offlcor'H  sorv.int.  Ciiliniiry  ntinfortunoH.  Desrrlion.  Sutl'iTinjti  hy  cold.  Do- 
tected  by  n  selflih  landlord,  and  rurriodto  8t.  John^s.  R«;turnod  to  Montreal.— 
Confiiiod  in  the  city  Jail.  Trial.  Bentunced  to  death.  Vbitcd  in  tho  condem- 
ned cell  liy  clergymen.    Tho  reprieve p.  77 

CnAPTKR  VI. 

Tho  visit  to  tlin  condcmiu'd  pcH.  The  execution.  A  my"<tcrlou«  visit.  A  Hiidden 
removal.  The  author  Is  (-onrnicd  f<jr  five  yenrt  to  (luchcc  jail.  The  trend 
whrol.  Surtbrlncs  of  the  prisoners.  Thoy  cut  a  nit.  Filth  of  the  pi ison.  A 
tunning  dovico.  lis  discovery.  Deslgno  of  osriipc.  Tho  onkum-Karrut.  Fail- 
ure of  a  di'sipned  elopcmiMit  from  prison.  Another  attempt  to  break  Jail,  and 
another  defeat.  The  dungeon.  Tlic  prisoners  engage  to  escaia;  in  a  body. — 
Plan  of  o|M.>ratUms  described.  The  discovery.  Tho  author's  regiment.  Dl«ap- 
pointed  liopcH.  The  prisoners  plan  their  escape  throuuh  the  roiumon  aewer. — 
The  cliort,  and  the  abortion  of  the  plan.  They  are  thr«i\vn  into  a  ilungeun  and 
Ironed,    llosignation p.  11-.' 

CHAVTER  VIK     *    > 

A  now  prisoner.  Modes  of  tJio  Spirit's  operations.  A  pious  visitor.  Delay  of 
duly.  A  strange  preacher.  An  elfectual  sermon.  A  confession.  Good  advice. 
Temptations  to  delny.  Serious  stale  of  mind,  rowcrlul  convictions.  Tho 
conversion.  Dfiightful  state  of  mind.  The  young  convert.  Favorable  impres- 
sions. Persccntion.  A  Patnnic  invention.  Disappointed  hatred.  The  i)eace- 
maker.  A  prisoner  alarmed.  The  Holy  Ghost  resisted.  Departure  of  a  friend. 
The  prison  school.  A  gift.  A  plentiful  provi-ion.  Dr.  Morula.  Plan  of  es- 
cape. A  disinterested  friend.  Facilities  for  escape.  An  auspicious  moment. — 
Groundless  alarm.  A  night's  excitement.  The  crisis.  The  escape.  Farewell 
to  ray  prison p.  13tf 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Tho  ecstasy  of  freedom.  The  journey.  Proceeds  towards  tho  back  country. — 
Travels  as  servant  to  the  doctor.  St.  Ann's.  St.  Ann's  church.  Interior  of  the 
church.  Tho  rofuJ-slde  crosses.  Sui)erstllion.  The  doctor  and  author  resolve 
lu  part.  The  author  lets  himself.  Duluess  of  situation.  Character  of  the 
jHJople.  Antagonism  of  intelligence  and  jioiwry.  Fears  of  discovery.  A  visit- 
or from  Cluebec.  A  fullow  prisoner.  The  prison  bnkcr.  Resolv<!s  to  leave. — 
New  causes  of  fear.  An  agreeable  surprise.  The  doctor  relates  his  adventures. 
Arrival  at  Orleans.  The  author  and  doctor  separate.  Groundless  alarm. — 
Passes  Quebec.  A  pleasant  renconter.  A  disagreeable  visitant.  Becomes  a 
hired  man.  A  narrow  escape.  The  hornet's  nest.  Reaches  the  United  States. 
An  old  desire  gratitied •,  • ..p.  153. 

•       -   .-.  ,    ...I.*,     .linii '111  t'      ("/.;/<'>  .,i;'.'>     ?'■;»•(*■•■'<  Ja,«nf-vV  ■■* 
;v«niVi-i  •»«/.  Vi  "t^t-irTadi '»>'J^).i!uA    .--.T-'Sur    «i J  :■  :..':.■,    -ijvij^    .Jtir,.'"'.    •>    •' 


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CONTENTS. 


!{;  scene 
iHCcdole. 
III.    The 

roine«  an 
(iltl.  Do. 
Dntreal.— 
)  comlcm- 
.    p.  77 


A  suiUlcn 
rUe  trend 
|iiisoii.  A 
ret.  Fiill- 
kk  jail,  antl 

a  botJy. — 
nt.  Dloap- 
in  sewer,— 


CHAPTRR  IX. 

The  niithnr  l»rcfiin»"«  nn  npprrntice.  Serious  fiTlliij.'!.  Tho  cnrnp-niiTtlrc-  Tho 
liiirk>llil('r  rrstorrd.  lieri  iiics  ti  MtllKiilli^t.  ItciiinvrM  to  ISr:iiltuiil.  |ti'.«li«>!«  to 
|iri;irli.  Tlie  lir>^t  ^i^•rlll((|l.  Rcnidvnl  to  I.i-lioii.  Hlinliei.  'r»iii|'t;iii(iiix.  'J'ho 
('  inikiirU.  Hilly  rrpurls.  I.<iiicliiie^s.  W'ritps  honio.  A  love  Hcqii  lintaiice. — 
MarriiiBc  A  Icttor  Iroin  England.  Hec(i|ii«*M  ft  furnn-r.  I)uiiii'>iu'  luippinpss. — 
Aiiiiilicr  Idler  trmii  tlip  Mullmr's  I'liticr.  'I'lic  aiithur  Is  lliTn-etl  in  pre;irh. 
Urciivcs  several  letliTs  I'rniii  Kii^laiid.  The  aullmr  perNiiinlcs  his  pii  rents  to 
cnii^'rate.  Thi'ir  ret'u.sal,  and  the  reasons,  A  iiea\y  loss*.  Moral  eil'rct  of  tent* 
piiraltriiH.  KeHf-ctions.  What  W  dctttli  f  Drlijilits  tif  iiiiiiinrtality.  Addrer'S 
to  the  ri'adtr.  Study  ol'  the  Ihlde  Hri,'<il.  'i'ln' (.'liri  ,iiaii  addri'-^.il.  Cuiirlii- 
sion p.   170 


Delay  of 
ood  advice, 
tions.  Tho 
ibic  iiupres- 
Thc  peace- 
oi"  a  friend, 
rian  of  es- 
uiuQiont. — 
Farewell 

.    .  p.  13a 


country.— 
Iteriorof  the 
thnr  resolvo 
[ctcr  of  the 
[y.    A  visit- 
Ito  leave. — 
idvontures- 
[iS  alarm.— 
Becomes  a 
kited  States. 
.    ..p.  155. 


I 


I! 


I'  ill 

r  I*  ■•*■. 


m 


%,  .rf-  •'    '  1 . 


v 


t,  -     N 


LIFE 


OP 


WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


CHAPTER    I . 


"  His  early  days 
Were  with  him  in  his  heart." 


Hemans. 


I  WAS  born  at  Frampton,  neai*  Boston,  in  the  county  ot 

Lincolnshire,  England,  on  the  seventh  day  of  September, 

1805.     My  father  was  the  owner  of  a  small  but  fertile 

farm,  from  which,  by  honest  industry,  he  obtained  a  com- 

tbrtable  support  for  himself  and  family,  consisting  of  a  wife 

and  seven  children.     He  possessed  a  sound  judgment,  an 

active,   vigorous  mind,   and  a  moral  character  that  even 

malice  could  not  sully  with  a  stain.     Blessed  with  compe- 

'   tence  and  health,  beloved  and  respected  by  his  townsmen, 

his  life  i^assed    smoothly  on,  unmarked  by  those  mental 

^   afflictions  and   anxieties  which   perplex  the   wealthy  and 

ii;  distract  the  poor.     His  was  tlic  middle  walk  in  life,  which, 

;? beyond  all  disputation,  aftbrds  the  largest  share  of  cnjoy- 

;  ment  to  man. 

M     Of  my  mother  I  can  say  but  little,  as  she  died  while  I 

'^was  yet  a  child.     A  spark  of  recollection,  however,  yet  re- 

;^:  mains  glimmering  in  my  memory,  and  reflecting  its  faint 

%  rays  upon  her  character.     She  was  a  deeply-affectionate 

|mother,  whose   affections  were  reg'dated  by  the   sterner 


h 


\  I 


t 

1 


i 


:'.- 


U 


V 


I 


\: 


10 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


RHcnIlcctions  of  my  mother. 


dictates  of  maternal  dutyy  and  by  t)»e  voice  of  Christianity. 
Her  last  sickness  was  protracted  and  painfully  severe ;  but 
with  Christian  fortitude  she  endured  it  without  a  murmer 
or  complaint.  Upon  the  near  approach  of  dissolution,  she 
summoned  the  whole  famih-  into  her  chamber  of  affliction, 
when,  with  great  firmness  and  deep-gushing  affection,  she 
bade  them  a  long  farewell,  committing  them  to  the  care  of 
her  merciful  and  beloved  Master.  Shortly  after,  the  death- 
summons  came.  Its  sound  fell  welcome  on  her  ears,  and, 
shaking  off  dull  mortality,  she  flew  with  a  spirit's  wings  to 
God,  to  share  with  the  redeemed  a  glorious  immortality. 

"  Thither  may  we  repair, 
That  glorious  bliss  to  share." 

A  few  days  subsequent  to  my  mother's  death,  two  of  my 
sisters  (twins)  followed  her  to  the  .  calms  of  peace — sweet 
babes  of  paridise,  called  early  to  their  home. 

These  painful  strokes,  from  the  chastening  rod  of  divine 
Providence,  made  deep  wounds  in  the  heart  of  my  father, 
teaching  him  that  "  man  is  born  unto  trouble,"  and  that  the 
smoothest  walks  in  life  have  here  and  there  a  thorn,  with 
which  to  pierce  the  traveler's  foot.  Still  he  murmured  not, 
but  labored  to  unite  with  the  patriarch  in  the  submissive 
exclamation  of,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away.     Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

There  is — there  must  be — something  peculiarly  melan- 
choly in  the  family  of  the  widower ;  and,  notwithstanding 
the  assiduity  and  care  of  attending  relatives,  the  place  of 
the  departed,  the  fond,  the  beloved  wife  and  mother,  is  not, 
cannot  be,  filled.  There  is  a  family  vacuum.  The  hus- 
band feels  it.  He  has  lost  the  tried  and  faithful  object  of 
his  dearest  affections ;  and,  though  he  may  now  possess 


i 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITOX. 


11 


The  widower. 


An  inscnitiiblc  I'rovidence. 


A  Step  Mother. 


iristianity. 
ivere;  but 
a  muvmcr 
)lution,  slie 
f  affliction, 
fection,  she 
the  care  of 
,  the  death- 
:  ears,  and, 
it's  wings  to 
mortality. 


1,  two  of  my 
>cace— sweet 

•od  of  divine 
,f  my  ftither, 
and  that  the 
thorn,  with 
lurmured  not, 
Ic  submissive 
Id  hath  taken 

Lliarly  melan- 
|t  withstanding 
the  place  of 
Jiother,  is  not, 
The  hus- 
iful  object  ol' 
now  possess 


ahnost  a  maternal  solicitude  for  his  babes,  yet  there  is  an 
aching  in  liis  bereaved  heart.  Does  he  return  from  his 
place  of  daily  toil?  How  the  tearful  eye  gazos  on  the 
vacant  place  she  used  to  fill !  Associations  are  connected 
with  that  glance,  which  rend  his  mournful  bosom,  and  send 
a  thrill  of  agony  to  the  lowest  fountain  of  feeling.  Docs 
lie  retire  to  his  solitary  chamber  ?  It  is  but  to  spend  the 
slecidoss  hours  in  r.gouizing  remembrances  of  the  past. 
Every  thing  around  him  serves  for  a  temptation  to  his  bus)' 
memory  to  bring  up  anew  the  images  of  scenes  long  since 
departed. 

How  keenly,  too,  is  the  mother's  lo?s  felt  by  the  survivinir 
children !  IIow  tliev  recoil  from  the  cold  attention  of 
strangers,  and  sigh  for  the  warmth  and  kindness  of  a  moth- 
er's love !  They  mis,?,  too,  those  instructions  which  they 
were  wont  to  receive  from  her  beloved  and  willing  lips,  and 
which  used  to  allbrd  them  innocent  amusement,  while  it 
jn'omoted  their  intellectual  and  moral  improvement.  But 
though  erring  and  sliort-siglitcd  man  may  wonder  at  that 
inscrutable  Providence  which  cuts  off  a  devoted  mother 
from  her  infant  progeny  ;  yet  He,  who  holds  tlie  destinies 
of  creation  in  his  mighty  grasp,  and  sways  an  irresistible 
sceptre  over  the  universe,  acts  not  without  a  reason  ;  and 
faitli  teaches  patient  submission  to  his  doings ;  believing, 
wlien  tlie  veil  is  removed,  and  God's  ways  revealed  to  man, 
that  the  most  offlicted  of  earth's  frail  sons  will  joyfully 
sini, 

"  My  Jesus  halh  done  all  things  well." 

After  the  lapse  of  several  months,  my  father  married,  a 
second  time,  to  an  amiable  woman  of  prepossessing  ai)pear- 
ance  and  agreeable  disposition.     She  was  kind  and  indu^ 


12 


LIFK    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIC  HTON. 


Hi 


/ 


(I 


Early  instruction. 


Anecdote. 


gent ;  and  from  her  I  received  that  care  and  attention  which 
iu  a  great  degree  atoned  lor  my  former  lots. 

My  parents  were  strict  observers  of  ^he  rules  of  the 
Enghsh  Episcopal  Church.  For  the  truths  of  the  Bible 
they  possessed  a  deep  reverence  and  a  sincere  regard ;  and 
they  spared  no  pains  in  striving  to  impress  its  eternal  truths 
upon  the  minds  of  their  offspring  at  the  earliest  periods  of 
mental  development. 

This  pious  instruction  made  deep  impressions  on  my 
youthful  licart,  leading  me  to  regard  the  character  of  God 
with  the  greatest  veneration,  and  inspiring  me  with  a  con- 
stant fear  of  offending  him  by  a  breach  of  his  holy  law. 
The  folIoAving  tuiocdote,  thougli  simple,  will  serve  to  show 
the  operations  of  these  moral  impressions  on  my  juNcnile 
mind. 

One  of  the  remaining  superstitions  of  the  pesantry  of 
England  is  the  belief  that  the  robin  red-brest,  for  some 
unknown  reason,  is  the  i)ccullar  favorite  of  the  Deit}' ;  that 
its  red  breast  is  the  mark  by  which  it  is  known  as  such, 
and  that  to  destroy  it  is  an  act  of  peculiar  and  abhorrent 
wiclcedness.  In  conmion  with  other  children,  I  had  been 
laught  this  superstition,  and  had  ever  regarded  the  I'obin  as 
a  sacred  bird.  One  day  by  mistake,  1  destroyed  a  brood  of 
the.-^c  chirping  innocents.  Upon  discovering  that  they  be- 
longed to  the  kind  designated  by  superstition,  I  became  the 
subject  of  the  most  bitter  and  painful  sensations.  Convic- 
tion that  I  had  done  wrong  fastened  on  my  mind.  1  felt 
guilty  and  unhapi)y,  and  Avas  filled  with  tormenting  fear,  on 
account  of  the  supposed  wickedness  of  the  deed.  I  tried 
to  forget  the  act.  but  the  effort  was  utterly  vain.  My 
burden  grew  heavier ;  it  became  almost  insupportable ;  I 
wept  aloud,  and  cried  to  God  for  mercy  and  pardon,  prom- 


LlfE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


1  ** 


■cdote. 

ion  which 

L'S  of  the 
the  Bible 
vard ;  and 
•nal  truths 
periods  oi 

>ns  on  my 
er  of  God 
vith  a  con- 
1  holy  law. 
■ve  to  show 
ny  juvenile 

lesantry  of 
:,  for  some 
city;  that 
n  as  such, 
abhorrent 
had  been 
le  robin  as 
u  brood  of 
liat  they  be- 
1  became  the 
Convic- 
[nd.     1  fell 
ling  fear,  on 
id.     I  tried 
vain.     My 
[portable;  I 
Irdon,  prom- 


The  Sabbath  School. 


ising,  if  he  would  forgive  me,  never  to  be  guilty  of  the 
like  offence  again.  In  the  midst  of  my  importunate  cries, 
I  obtained  as  sensible  relief  as  I  ever  experienced  in  my 
life.  ]My  guilt  was  rolled  from  my  heart,  and  peace  re- 
turned to  my  bosom,  insomuch  that  I  hastened  to  my  amuse- 
ments Avith  all  the  transports  of  youthful  delight.  Would 
that  my  moral  sensitiveness,  though  better  instructed,  had 
ahvsiys  remained  ecpuiUy  sharp  ! 

That  I  might  be  more  efficiently  instructed  in  those 
SL'riptares  which  make  "  wise  unto  salvation,"  I  was,  at  an 
early  age,  sent  to  one  of  those  nurseries  of  the  church,  a 
Sabbath  school.  It  was  conducted  by  some  Christian  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  whose  souls,  filled  with  a  Savior's  love, 
yearned  with  compassion  for  the  youth  of  our  village. 
From  their  plnlauthropic  labors  the  seed  my  parents  sowed 
was  watered  ;  earlier  impressions  were  deepened,  and  others 
lixed  in  my  youthful  heart,  which  served  as  powerful  re- 
straints in  after  life,  and,  under  God,  were  the  means  of 
preventing  me  from  j)lunging  headlong  into  the  unfjithomed 
depths  of  vice.  O,  tlie  blesssed  and  happy  effects  of  Sab- 
bath schools  I  Surely  they  are  seats  of  mercy.  How 
vitally  important  are  they  to  the  interests  of  the  church! 
and  liow  earnestly  is  it  to  be  wished,  that  Christians  were 
more  awake  to  a  consideration  of  their  value ;  that  they 
labored  more  perseveringly  and  steadily  at  this  mighty 
engine  of  piety  and  reformation  I  May  the  omnipotent 
Jehovah  awaken  them. 

My  father,  aware  of  the  value  of  education,  placed  me 
under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Joshua  Dent,  a  gentleman  fitted, 
both  by  learning  and  judgment,  to  superintend  the  instruc- 
tion of  youth.  By  his  assistance  I  acquired  a  knowledge 
of  the  common  branches  of  education ;   and   had  I  been 

2* 


w   I' 


I 


s 


•1 


H 


!i 


) 


r 


I- 


14 


LIKE    OF    WILLIAM    B.   LIOftTO.V. 


Love  of  amusement. 


Orchard  rubbing. 


Birds-nesting. 


less  indolent,  the  higher  branches  of  literature  might  have 
been  added  to  my  attainments.  Such  were  my  indolence 
and  love  of  amusement,  however,  that,  despite  all  the 
efforts  of  my  teacher,  I  made  but  little  progress,  to  thf 
great  grief  of  my  parents,  and  to  my  own  subsequent 
sorrow. 

Such  was  the  intensity  of  my  love  of  amusement,  that 
ji  frequently  involved  me  in  trouble  and  perplexity,  wasted 
a  large  proportion  of  my  precious  time,  and,  in  some  cases, 
made  me  amenable  to  the  laws  of  the  laud.  My  favorite 
amusements  were  the  robbing  of  orchards  and  gardens, 
trapping  game,  and  hunting  for  birds'  nests.  In  pursuing 
these  Avicked  practices,  J  not  unfrequently  exposed  myselt 
to  the  imminent  danger  of  breaiving  a  limb,  and  even  oi 
losing  my  life.  In  climbing  the  lofty  hedges  which  surround 
the  ample  fields  of  the  English  farmer,  my  flesh  often  car- 
ried away  abundant  in-ooiS  of  the  sharpncsb  of  the  haw- 
tfiorn's  point ;  nor  did  my  clothes  escape,  but  were  usually 
lianging  in  rags,  occasioned  by  a  rent  from  the  bough  of  a 
tree  or  the  point  of  a  thorn.  This  naturally  excited  the 
dlsi>leasui'c  of  my  parents,  especially  of  my  mother,  whose 
needle  and  thread  Avere  kept  in  continual  demand  through 
my  perseverance  in  tearing.  But  neither  the  displeasure 
of  i)arents,  nor  the  coi^ioral  inflictions  with  whicli  they  saw 
tit  to  punish  me,  deterred  me  from  my  follies.  A  deep- 
rooted,  innate  love  of  indolent  and  idle  pursuits  bore  down 
e\'ery  restraint,  and  urged  mc  onwards  in  the  career  of 
wrong-doing. 

These  things  are  mentioned,  chiefly,  to  point  my  youthful 
readers  to  the  great  and  first  causes  which  led  to  the  numer- 
ous sufferings  of  my  after  life  ;  that  they  may  regard  my 
fault  as  a  beacon  light  gleaming  forth  on  the  sea  of  lifcr 


LIFE    Of    WILLIAM    B.   LIGIITON. 


iicstinR. 

ight  have 
indolence 
3   all  the 
ss,  to  tlu- 
Libsequent 

ment,  that 
tv,  -Nva.stetl 
ome  cases, 
[y  favorite 
1   gardens. 
,1  pursuhig 
sed  myselt 
id  even  ot 
ch  surround 
I  often  car- 
»f  the  haw- 
ere  usuallv 
bough  of  a 
xcited  th(* 
ler,  whose 
Ind  through 
displeasure 
;li  thev  saw 
A  deep- 
bore  down 
Ic  career  ot 

hiiy  youthful 

the  numer- 

regard  my 

sea  of  life* 


The  thieves  discovered. 


and,  by  its  faint  radiency,  directing  their  attention  to  the 
dangerous  rock  on  whicli  I  and  thousands  more  have 
wrecked  tlieir  infant  hopes,  viz.,  disobedience  to  ^>«re/?^A\ 
J  lad  I  viekled  to  their  commands,  and  abstained  from  idle- 
ness  and  folly,  I  sliould  have  escaped  that  censure  and 
puiiisluncnt  which  made  my  home  an  unpleasant  place,  and 
sent  me,  a  wandering  bov,  out  on  the  hijiliwavs  of  the  un- 
generous  and  unfeeling  world.  Two  or  three  instances  o\' 
inv  misconduct  may  not  be  unnrolitable. 

^ly  father,  being  an  experienced  and  [)ractical  horticuhu- 
I'ist,  had,  by  great  effort  and  expense,  brought  his  garden 
to  a  very  high  degree  of  perfection.  Knowing  the  rude- 
ness and  thoughtlessness  of  cliiklren,  he  i)eremptorily  for- 
l>ade  them  from  entering  it,  without  some  adult  member  of 
the  family  as  a  companion,  Tiiis  pj'ohibition,  so  evidently 
reasonable,  ought  to  ha^e  been  implicitly  and  readily 
obeyed.  To  my  shame  I  violated  it,  and  made  frequent 
secret  visits  to  its  richly-laden  trees,  and  wickedly  enjoyed 
tlie  guilty  pleasure  of  feasting  on  its  thousand  SAveets.  On 
one  occasion,  in  company  with  my  eldest  brother,  unsus- 
picious of  danger  or  discovery,  I  was  ladlnn-  mvself  with 
the  forbidden  s[)oil,  when  approaching  footsteps  warned  us 
that  we  Averc  in  danger  of  detection.  Conscious  jjuilt 
alarmed  us  greatly,  and  hastily  hiding  our  fruit,  like  our 
tirst  parents  in  Eden,  we  secreted  ourselves  among  the 
trees  and  bushes  of  the  garden. 

The  disturbers  of  our  guilty  pleasure  proved  to  be  my 
mother  and  grandmother,  who,  informed  of  our  proceedings 
by  a  neighbor,  were  come  to  drive  us  plunderers  aAvay. 
Approaching  our  hiding-place,  one  of  them  exclaimed, 

"  Then  you  are  here,  you  villans,  are  you  ?  Come  out 
immediately !" 


f 


mxiJ  II  1, 1 1 


16 


MFi:    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITOJl. 


ill  I 


Ktiglish  pi  me  laws. 


We  rcmaind  as  silent  as  our  heavy  breathing  wouM 
permit;  they  commenced  a  regular  search,  and  soon  dis- 
lodged us  from  our  retreat,  and  drove  us  from  the  garden. 

It  has  been  stated,  that  I  was  extremely  fond  of  trapping 
game.  Now,  it  mny  not  be  known  to  all  my  renders,  that 
this  practice  is  made  criminal  by  the  laws  of  Engliuid ;  yet 
such  is  the  fact,  lly  those  laws,  it  is  a  crime  to  kill  any 
kind  of  game,  unless  duly  qualified  according  to  law,  which 
(jualification  requires  the  possession  of  certain  properties^, 
or  the  payment  of  a  weighty  tax.  Hence,  should  any. 
whom  Providence  has  placed  in  the  lower  walks  of  life. 
dare  to  lay  his  unhallowed  hands  upon  any  of  those  foi- 
bidden  creatures,  even  though  urged  to  do  it  by  the  impe- 
rious demands  of  a  starving  family,  the  strong,  resistless 
arm  of  an  impious  law  would  drag  him  from  the  bosom  of 
a  depeiidant  wife  and  children,  and  consign  him  to  sc>  eral 
years  of  toilsome  life  on  board  die  hulks  of  a  seaport,  or 
on  the  distant  shores  of  some  convict  colonv.  These  are 
laws,  which,  in  my  humble  o]»inion,  ought,  if  not  repealed, 
at  least  to  be  modified,  as  in  their  present  shape,  they  are 
too  strongly  marked  by  the  odious  features  of  cruelty  and 
tyranny. 

My  father  was  a  strict  observer  of  these  laws,  and  did 
all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  prevent  his  children  or  depend- 
ants from  infringing  them.  He  would  keep  no  dog,  gun  or 
other  instrument  of  poaching  on  his  premises  ;  and  he 
sternly  and  strictly  forbade  their  violation,  tlireatning  the 
disobedient  with  the  severest  punishment.  Such,  however, 
were  my  waywardness  and  thoughtlessness  of  disposition, 
that  my  father's  commands  were  but  as  a  spider's  thread  in 
the  way  of  my  gratification  ;  and  I  was  too  boyish  to  be 
much  in  fear  of  the  law  of  the  land.     Hence  I  would  and 


LIFE    OF    WILMAM    n.    LIGIITON. 


PoarhiiiK. 


TarentHl  jfovcrnment. 


oon  clis- 
Ttirden. 

\cr?,  that 

uml;  yet 
kill  any 

Lw,  whicli 

>ropertic?. 

)ul(l   any. 

LS  of  lifr. 

those  foi- 

tlic  impo- 

,  rcsistlcFs 

hosom  of 

to  several 

caport,  or 

Thes*e  are 

repealed. 

,  they  are 

ruelty  ami 

|v«,  ami  did 

depcnd- 
log,  gun  or 
and  he 
latning  the 
I,  however, 
[disposition. 
Is  thread  in 
>yish  to  be 
would  and 


I 


did  poach,  though  frequently  detected  hy  my  fatlier.  At 
length  he  adopted  a  course  of  very  strict  and  severe  disci 
pline,  so  that  life  became  a  burden,  and  my  home  an  un- 
])leasant  jdace.  I  ardently  sighed  for  nn  opporUmlly  t(» 
esca])e  from  its  painful  rigors.  His  po.-itiv(^  Jind  oft-repeated 
j)rohibitions,  accom})anied  as  they  ■were  Avith  the  api)licatioji 
of  the  rod,  and  indications  of  angry  disjdeasure,  only  served 
to  inflame  my  desires  ind  increase  my  ol)stinacy.  I^^y 
experience  verified  the  sentiment  of  the  heathen  jioet,  whn 


say? 


"Vice  is  provok'^l  by  ovm'J'  r.'ror.!.?  restraint  : 
Sick  men  love  most  to  diinlc,  who  know  ihcv  iiiavii'l." 


Had  my  dear  father  depended  more  on  the  efTiicacy  of  appeals 
to  my  sense  of  right  and  wrong — had  h(.>  appealed  to  my 
affection  for  him,  and  used  persuasive  instead  of  severe 
measures — it  is  highly  prol)able,  that  some  of  the  leading 
defects  of  my  character  might  have  been  neutralized,  and  J 
saved  from  those  suiferings  that  befel  me  in  after  life.  As 
it  was,  my  disposition  grew  worse  under  his  disiplinc,  and 
my  aifections  became  much  alienated  and  Gstr:;ngod. 

Were  a  proper  line  of  conduct  pursued  in  the  government 
and  education  of  children,  how  few  j^rojlujatc  sons  and 
and  daughters,  and  how  few  hrohcn-heartcd  };arcnts,  should 
Ave  find !  Negleot  of  early  religious  instruction,  connected 
with  wholesome  and  affectionate  restraint,  is  the  ruin  of 
millions.  Many  parents  are  too  authoritative  and  severe  in 
their  mode  of  exacting  obedience,  while  others  rush  into 
the  extreme  of  foolish  fondness,  and  in  reality  maintain  no 
government  at  all.  In  the  former  case,  home  becomes  the 
object  of  dislike  ;  in  the  latter,  the  half-grown  man  is  seen 
to  usurp  the  authority  of  the  parent,  and  to  treat  his  power 


18 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    n.    LIGIITOX. 


Purnnttt  the  cauHe  of  thv\t  children's  nilii. 


with  as  little  respect,  as  if  its  mandates  were  as  unimpor- 
tant as  the  wind  that  murmurs  in  the  grove,  or  plays 
sportively  on  the  rippling  water,'. 

"It  is  not  \)n.ren\a\  fondness, nor  parental  authority, taken 
separately,  that  can  produce  a  beneficial  effect.  A  father 
may  be  as  fond  of  his  offspring  as  he  [)0ssibly  can  be,  and 
his  children  be  disobedient  and  rebellious  ;  he  may  be  as 
authoritative  as  the  Grand  Turk,  and  his  children  despise 
and  plot  rebellion  against  him.  But  let  parental  authorih/ 
be  tempered  with  fatherly  affection,  and  let  the  reins  of 
discipline  be  steadily  held  by  this  powerful  but  affectionate 
hand,  and  there  shall  the  pleasure  of  God  prosper;  there 
will  he  give  his  blessing,  even  "  life  for  evermore."  Many 
fine  families  have  been  spoiled,  and  many  ruined,  by  the 
separate  exercise  of  these  too  principles. 

"  Parental  affection,  when  alone,  infallibly  degenerate? 
into  foolish  fondnes -i ;  and  parental  authority  frequently  de- 
generates into  brutal  tyranny,  when  standing  by  itself.  The 
first  sort  of  parents  will  be  loved,  without  being  respected ; 
iha  second  sort  Avill  be  dreaded,  without  either  respect  or 
esteem.  In  the  first  case,  obedience  is  not  exacted,  and  is 
therefore  felt  to  be  unnecessary,  as  offences  of  great  magni- 
tude pass  without  punishment  or  reprehension.  In  the 
second  case,  rigid  (^jxaction  renders  obedience  almost  im- 
possible ;  and  t]>c  smallest  delinquency  is  oftCK  punished 
with  the  extreuie  of  torture,  which,  hardening  the  mind, 
renders  duty  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference. 

"  Parents,  lay  these  things  to  heart !  Teach  your  children 
to  fear  God ;  use  wholesome  discipline  ;  be  determined : 
begin  in  time ;  mingle  strictness  and  mercy  together  in  all 
your  conduct ;  and  earnestly  pray  to  God  to  second  your 
godly  discipline  with  tlje  power  anci  grace  of  }iis  Spirit.'- 


'£_ 

% 


.IFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LI«HTON. 


19 


08  unimpor- 
re,  or   plays 

hority,  tuken 
t.  A  father 
'  can  be,  aiul 
le  may  be  as 
dren  despise 
ital  author  it)/ 
the  reins  of 
t  affectionate 
'osper ;  there 
lore."  Many 
uined,  by  the 

y  degenerate? 

requently  de- 
itself.  The 
g  respected ; 
r  respect  ov 
acted,  and  is 
,2;rcat  magni- 

|on.  In  the 
e  almost  im- 
cii  punished 
i«l  the  mind, 

I  ^ 

rour  children 
determined : 
Isrether  in  all 
[second  your 
Is  Spirit,'^ 


Volatile  dlKiMwition. 


A  Hca  rnptJiln. 


Preparing  for  a  voyngn. 


That  period  of  my  life  had  now  arrived,  in  which  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  make  choice  of  some  trade,  business, 
or  profession,  by  which  to  sustain  myself  with  respectability 
and  usefulness  in  society.  Owing  to  the  changefulness  and 
volatility  of  my  disposition,  tins  was  no  easy  matter.  Added 
to  this,  my  mind  was  filled  with  false  and  romantic  notions 
of  distant  places.  I  was  charmed  with  the  interesting 
adventures  of  travelers,  and  ardently  longed  to  rove  the 
wide  earth  Jincontrolled  and  fn^e  as  the  forest  birds.  This 
disposition  lost  none  of  its  intensity  from  the  following 
occurrence  : 

Captain  Hewitt,  a  relative  of  my  father,  came  to  spend 
a  few  days  with  us,  on  the  eve  of  his  depai'turc  for  a  long 
voyage.  To  him  was  communicated  the  ardency  of  my 
desires  to  enter  the  held  of  adventure  and  travel.  lie  pro- 
j)0sed  to  take  me  to  sea.  To  this  my  father  agreed,  provi- 
ded the  plan  met  with  my  hearty  concurrence.  My  young 
heart  danced  joyously  at  tlie  idea,  and  cheerfully  consenting 
I  was  ordered  to  commence  immediate  preparations,  and  to 
hold  myself  in  readiness  at  the  sunuuons  of  my  patron. 

I  was  now  absorbed  in  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  pre- 
)»aration.  IMy  wliole  soul  entered  into  it.  My  active 
imagination  was  IIIIchI  with  every  variety  of  imagery,  and 
Jiiy  brain  swam,  intoxicated  with  joyous  expectation.  One 
idea  filled  my  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  The 
pleasure  of  a  sailor's  life  stood  up  before  me,  a  perfect 
[)aridise  of  sweets.  The  thought  of  leaving  home  and 
friends  gave  me  no  pang,  lv>r  I  hardly  permitted  it  to  have 
«  moments  existence.  Foolish  youth  that  I  was.  My  joy 
;^vas  the  joy  of  ignorance — a  dream  of  the  mind,  which  the 
'light  of  sober  realities  has  since  painfully  dispelled. 


20 


LIIK    OF    WILLIAM    U.    LICJIITON. 


DlKapiwlntmont. 


America. 


<    ill 


My  engagetlness  almoat  cost  my  father  his  house ;  for 
one  night,  wliile  selecting  papers  and  books  ior  an  intended 
Journal,  I  accidentally  set  fire  to  the  window-hangings  of 
the  chamber,  which  however,  with  much  difficulty,  was 
extinguished. 

But  all  these  buoyant  hopes  and  sanguine  expectations 
were  fated  to  be  crushed  in  the  bud.  Having  waited 
several  weeks  for  the  sunnnons  of  the  captain,  in  vain,  I 
was  compelled,  however  unwilligiily,  to  yield  to  disappolnt- 
Jiiont ;  nor  did  wc  ever  learn  the  reason  why  he  did  not 
I'uUil  his  engagement.  This  little  circumstance  is  a  speci- 
men in  minilure  of  the  daily  disappointments  which  rack 
tlie  brains  and  tear  the  hearts  of  mankind. 

Shortly  after  this  event  had  taken  its  location  among  the 
images  of  the  past,  the  (piestion  of  "  emigration"  was 
seriously  agitated  in  our  usually  quiet  parish,  occasioning 
no  little  excitement  and  discontent.  America,  with  its  un- 
surpassed a<lvantageb',  became  the  subject  of  constant  con- 
versation among  all  classes  of  society.  The  public  voice 
spoke  loudly  in  its  favor,  and  the  periodicals  >vere  filled 
with  blaming  eulogies  of  this  far-famed  contin(.'nt,  until  an 
emigrating  fover  burnt  llercely  in  the  bosoms  of  thousands. 
America  was  believed  to  be  veiy  little  else  than  a  modern 
paridise,  or  an  Eljslmn  of  spontaneous  sweets. 

Among  the  many  who  cought  this  western  mania,  my 
father  stood  foremost,  and  most  ardently  did  he  desire  to 
visit  a  spot  which  tlie  flattering  hand  of  report  painted  in 
colors  so  attractive  and  fascinating,  iiut  the  ill  heath  of 
my  mother-in-law  stood  as  an  insuperable  barrier  in  his  way, 
and  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  idea. 

The  spirit  of  emigration,  though  not  natural  to  the  Eng- 
lish,  found  ti   home  in  thousands  of  willinor  hearts.     The 


UFE    OF   WILLIAM   h.   LUniTOK. 


'^l 


America. 


i  liousc  ;  for 
r  un  intended 
-hangings  of 
ilficulty,  was 

1  expectations 
living  waited 
lin,  in  vain,  I 
to  disappoint- 
iiy  he  did  not 
lee  is  a  speei- 
ts  which  rack 


ion  among  the 


igrat  ion 


Cnofcii  (>r  pBiiKrvtiiin. 


De«lro  of  ciiilKratlon  xtrong. 


was 
ih,  occasioning 
a,  Avith  its  un- 
constant  con- 
public  voice 
s  were   tilled 
lent,  until  an 
of  thousands, 
han  a  modern 

rn  mania,  my 
he  desire  to 
[ort  painted  in 
lie  ill  heath  oi' 
|ier  in  his  way, 

d  to  the  Eng- 
hearts.     The 


pletusing  and  enticing  accounts,  constantly  received,  ten<Ic<l 
to  keep  it  alive,  and  to  kindle  and  inflame  the  most  burn- 
ing dcfsiros  The  unbounded  field  it  opened  to  the  hard 
hand  of  industry ;  the  rich  harvests  it  promised  to  the 
*  speculator  ;  and  above  all,  the  rising  importance  and  grow- 
ing majesty  of  its  government, — were  tacts  which  acted  on 
the  })ublic  mind  with  the  potency  of  the  magnet.  Added 
to  this,  the  deplorable  state  of  things  at  home,  the  depression 
and  wretchedness  of  the  lower  classes,  and  the  murderous 
weight  of  taxation,  rendered  the  people  dissatisfied,  and 
induced  them  to  regard  PImigration  as  the  guardian  angel 
of  their  safety,  beckoning  them  to  leave  the  isle  of  theii 
fathers,  and,  like  the  Pilgrims,  seek  a  refuge,  not  from  re- 
ligious, but  from  political  oppression  and  domestic  poverty. 
These  topics,  being^  under  continual  discussion  in  my 
father's  family,  and  in  other  places,  were  not  without  their 
influence  on  my  mind.  I  seized  upon  them  with  avidity 
and  eagerness,  and  they  fed  to  fatness  the  morbid  desire  to 
wander,  already  existing  in  my  bosom.  I  now  became 
anxious  to  go  to  America.  Such  is  the  mind  of  youth — a 
substance  yielding  to  every  new  impression. 

My  wish  to  visit  this  continent  was  still  more  increased 
l)y  the  conversation  of  my  private  tutor,  who,  during  the 
winter  evenings,  was  employed  to  give  the  finishing  stroke 
to  my  limited  education.  My  father  usually  attended  at 
these  hours,  and  during  the  intervals  of  instruction,  con- 

*  versed  freely  upon  this  subject.     I  always  listened  with 
the  profoundest  attention,  and  most  carefully  treasured  up 

^  every  remark,  so  that,  when  my  tutor  was  dismissed,  it  was 
I  evident  that  I  had  improved  more  in  my  knowledge  of 

1  American  history,   manners,  and  customs,  than   in  any 

'department  of  science. 

3 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


All  Emigmnt's  roturn  fruin  America. 


Deprived  of  the  conversations  between  my  father  and 
my  tutor,  I  procured  a  work  entitled  "  The  Emigrant's 
Cxuide,"  wliich  I  read  most  assiduously,  sometimes  carrying 
it  to  church  on  the  Sabbath,  and  wickedly  employing  my- 
self in  poring  over  its  pages,  instead  of  attending  to  the 
worship  of  God,  and  the  solemn  duties  of  His  house. 

About  this  time,  a  friend  of  my  father,  named  West- 
moreland, emigrated  from  our  vicinity.  He  took  passage 
in  the  spring  of  the  year,  and  after  a  short  and  pleasant 
voyage,  landed  safely  in  Philadelphia.  His  first  impres- 
sions Avere  unfavorable  ;  and  from  the  tenor  of  his  commu- 
nications, it  appeared  that  he  was  any  thing  but  satisfied. 
He  found  a  difference  between  the  mild  sun  and  cooling 
breezes  of  Albion,  and  the  scorching  sun  of  Pennsylvania. 

He  had  hardly  arrived,  before  he  wrote  back,  expressing 
his  determination  to  return  as  speedily  as  possible. 

One  day,  as  my  father  and  1  were  laboring  in  the 
harvest-field,  a  genllemaii  a[)proached  us,  of  whose  identity 
I  had  little  doubt.  "  Father,"  said  I,  ''  look  yonder  ;  here 
comes  Mr.  Westmoreland." 

"  Impossible  !"  replied  he ;  "  and  yet  it  is  his  gait  and 
manner ;  as  Tm  a  man  'tis  he." 

And  so  it  was.  He  soon  came  near  us,  and  giving  us  a 
hearty  shaking  by  the  hands,  shouted, 

"  Ah,  Lighton,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  America." 

He  then  presented  us  with  several  curiosities,  among 
which  was  a  tortoise.  ''  There,"  said  he,  "  if  you  go  to 
America,  you  will  have  to  live  on  these  creatures,  as  they 
are  very  plentiful,  and  constitute  a  favorite  dish  with  the 
Americans." 

He  then  otrongly  urged  my  father  to  lay  aside  the  idea 
of  emigration,  presenting  many  discouragements;  among 


i        ! 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    R.    LIOHTON. 


23 


athcr  and 
iinigrant'd 
3  carrying 
,ying  my- 
ng  to  the 
mse. 

led  V.'est- 
ok  passage 
d  pleasant 
•st  inipres- 
lis  conimu- 
it  satistiecl. 
md  cooling 
nnsylvania. 
expressing 

le. 


])isc()iitentc(l  stitte  of  the  author's  iiiiml. 


ring  in  the 
ose  identity 
nder  ;  here 

is   l^ait  and 


jrivmg  lis  a 


ties,  among 
you  go  to 
res,  as  they 
sA  with  the 

ie  the  idea 
nts;  among 


which  was  the  grievous  torments  the  peoi)le  endured  from 
(he  stings  of  black  flies  and  muscjuitoes,  which,  he  said,  had 
deprived  him  of  many  a  night's  sleep.  His  sombre  descrip- 
tions, liowever,  did  not  alter  my  father's  views,  for  he  sup- 
posed the  man  to  be  more  in  fault  than  the  country  ;  and 
as  Mr.  W.  passed  out  of  the  field,  he  dryly  observed  to  me. 
'^  I  think  his  back  is  too  straight ;"  signifying  that  he  did 
not  love  work,  which  indeed  was  the  fact. 

Such  occurrences  as  these  only  served  to  inflame  my  de- 
sire to  cross  the  Atlantic,  and  to  explore  the  interesting 
country  beyond  it.  I  grew  more  and  more  discontented  and 
dissatisfied  with  the  rcsti*aints  of  my  father's  house,  and  was 
the  fruitful  cause  of  much  uneasiness  to  my  parents.  8er 
vere  as  was  their  discipline,  it  Avholly  failed  to  correct  the 
exuberant  follies  of  my  depraved  heart.  I  was  habitually 
a  disobedient  youth  ;  passion  ruled  in  my  turbulent  soul, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  restraining  influences  of  the 
grace  of  God,  I  must,  with  such  a  heart,  have  rushed  head- 
long to  ruin  and  despair. 

The  period  between  early  youth  and  manhood  is  perhaps 
the  most  dangerous  part  of  human  life.  Then,  the  j^assions 
flercely  rise  and  boldly  ask  to  rule.  Reason,  as  yet,  is  weak, 
and  easily  persuaded  to  yield  that  empire  over  appetite  and 
I)ftssion,  which  is  her  lawful  prerogative.  Pleasure,  then, 
comes  clad  in  the  greenness  and  freshness  of  early  youth, 
with  a  voice  like  the  siren  queen,  to  decoy  the  unwary  to 
her  fatal  bowers.  And  then  it  is  that  the  future  character 
of  the  man  is  formed.  Habits,  with  their  bands  of  iron,  are 
then  created ;  and  few  there  are,  who  do  not  carry  the 
pressure  of  the  band  of  some  evil  habit  down  to  the  lonelit 
ness  of  the  tomb.  Hence,  this  period  is  one  of  immense,  of 
tremendous  importai  ce. 


24 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOH". 


Importance  of  the  period  of  youth. 


Let  tliese  remarks  be  received  as  friendly  cautions  by  the 
juvenile  reader.  Tliey  are  designed  to  make  him  feel  that 
he  is  in  a  dangerous  path  ;  to  induce  hhn  to  watch  over  the 
evil  propensities  of  his  nature,  lest  lie  be  made  the  dupe  of 
passion.  The  "  ivise  mart!''  has  left  this  sage  advice  to  such 
in  Prov.  iv.  23 :  "  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence^  for  out 
of  it  are  the  issues  ofHfe"lm^oJd&x\i  advice!  Whatever  my 
youdiful  reader  may  neglect,  let  him  be  sure  to  look  well  to 
his  heart.  It  is  the  great  seat  of  principles.  Let  bad  ones 
become  dominant  there,  and  it  will  be  like  "  cutting  off  a 
right  arm,"  or  "  plucking  o«t  the  rigjit  eye,"  to  root  tiiem 
out.  Therefore  watch  it !  Narrowly  observe  and  coiTCCt 
all  its  inclinations  and  aversions,  all  its  motions  and  affec- 
tions, together  with  the  sevei*al  objects  and  occasions  which 
excite  them.  Let  the  heart  be  thus  watched  by  you,  and 
l)urified  by  the  gi*ace  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  your  life  will 
l>e  a  perpetually-flowing  si)ring  of  purity  and  joy. 


)       ^l!   1 


5lli    'i 


>n3  by  the 
1  feel  that 
1  over  the 
le  dupe  of 
ee  to  such 
ce,for  out 
latever  my 
)ok  well  to 
t  bad  ones 
Litting  off  a 

root  tuem 
t!id  correct 

and  affec- 
siona  which 
)y  you,  and 
air  life  will 


'■ 


CHAPTER  II. 


"  A  youth  rode  forth  from  his  childhood's  home, 
Through  the  crowded  paths  ot  the  world  to  roam  ; 
And  the  green  leaves  whispered  as  he  passed, 
•  Wherefore,  thou  dreamer,  away  so  fast  ? ' " 

Hemans. 

I  a:m  now  about  to  enter  upon  that  part  of  my  life  which 
exhibits  me  as  a  houseless  wanderer  among  the  heartless 
multitudes  of  mankind.  The  reader  will  find  a  variety  of 
incidents,  faithfully  and  truly  detailed.  Many  facts,  simple 
in  themselves,  are  recorded  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  les- 
sons of  wisdom  to  parents  and  children ;  should  they  be 
useful  as  the  means  of  correcting  the  errors  of  one  youth, 
the  labor  of  the  writer  will  not  have  been  altogether  vain. 

My  parents,  feeling  solicitous  for  my  welfare,  and  des- 
pairing of  reforming  me  at  home,  procured  me  a  situation  at 
a  respectable  farmer's,  about  twelve  miles  from  my  native 
village.  I  staid  there  but  a  short  time,  as  my  master  found 
liis  business  insufficient  to  continue  me  in  his  employ.  Up- 
on returning  home,  my  father  received  me  with  great  cool- 
ness, and  strongly  expressed  his  entire  disbelief  in  the  truth 
of  my  statements,  as  to  the  cause  of  my  return.  This  was 
very  unfortunate  in  its  operation  on  my  mind,  as  it  only 
served  to  increase  my  unhappiness,  and  make  my  dislike  of 
home  more  bitter  and  irritating. 

In  the  spring  of  1819,  I  was  again  put  to  service  at  some 

distance   from    home,  in  a  family,  who  were  remarkal)ly 

punctilious  in  their  attentions  to  the  externals  of  religion  ; 

3* 


2G 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.   LIGHTOAT. 


A  jtasnlonate  master. 


A  designed  oflence. 


.1       :1 


l)ut  like  the  Pharisees,  they  were  evidently  utter  strangers 
to  its  vitality  and  power.  Among  other  things,  4liey  insisted 
upon  a  punctual  attendance  at  the  house  of  God,  on  the 
part  of  their  dependants — a  request  perfectly  congenial  to 
my  feelings,  and  which  I  willingly  complied  with.  But 
with  all  their  care  to  assume  the  appear'^nces  of  i)icty,  they 
were  the  victims  of  ungovernable  i)assions.  ITpon  the  most 
trilling  occasions,  my  master  would  assail  me  with  the 
(sbullitions  of  his  wrath.  With  my  utmost  efforts,  it  wa.s 
impossible  to  escape  his  harsh  and  severe  censures,  which , 
in  most  cases,  v/ere  wholly  undeserved. 

It  is  not  therefore  surprising,  that  I  soon  became  discon- 
tented and  unhappy ;  and  yet  I  durst  not  complain.  There- 
were  none  to  wliom  I  could  vent  the  feelings  of  my  swell- 
ing heart.  If  I  returned  home,  I  should  lina  nu  Sympathy  ; 
coolness  and  anger  awaited  me  there.  INIy  sorrows  were  oi' 
necessity  locked  up  in  my  own  wrctched  bosom.  I  sighed, 
and  wished  my  own  dear  mother  had  lived  ;  but  she,  alas  I 
was  cold  in  death,  and  I  had  no  comforter. 

My  situation,  instead  of  imnroving,  became  more  and 
more  unpleasant.  My  master  grew  more  odious  and  tyran- 
nical every  day.  On  the  most  insignificant  occasions,  he 
swore  and  threatened  as  if  an  evil  spirit  possessed  him  • 
and  my  situation  became  so  bad,  that  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  galley-slave  enjoyed  a  lot  preferable  to  mine.  For  a 
Avhile,  I  forbore  to  resent  .his  treatment,  but  at  length  gave 
way  to  carelessness  aud  neglect,  in  the  hope  that  he  would 
dismiss  me  from  his  service  ;  and  my  plan  proved  success- 
ful. One  morning,  being  sent  to  take  care  of  the  sheep,  I 
])urposely  loitered  by  the  way.  Upon  my  return,  he  i)oured 
out  a  dreadful  volley  of  abuse,  and  after  exhausting  his  en . 
tire  stock  of  oaths  and  blasphemies,  threatened  to  "kick  me 


LIFE    Of    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITON. 


27 


ice. 


A  separation. 


ReHecuonit  on  a  lault  of  parenu. 


itrangers 
Y  insisted 
I,  on  the 
lorenial  to 
ith.  But 
icty,  they 
1  the  most 
with  the 
rts,  it  wa.> 
•es,  ^vhiehf 

me  (liseon- 
,n.  There 
my  swell- 
s'mpathy  ; 
^ws  were  oi' 
I  sighed, 
t  she,  alas ! 

more  and 
and  tyran- 
pcasions,  he 

ssed  him  ; 

to  me  that 
Inc.     For  a 
length  gave 
It  he  would 
J'ed  success- 
lie  sheep,  I 
),  he  poured 
Iting  his  en. 
lo  "  kick  me 


over  a  ten  foot  wall,"  which,  though  a  hard  affair,  I  thought 
would  i)revent  some  subseciuent  trouble,  provided  we  kept 
our  respective  sides.  However,  I  made  no  reply,  until  he 
ordered  me  into  the  house,  to  receive  my  discharge  from  his 
.service.  This  order  met  with  my  most  perfect  acijuiescence  ; 
and  I  informed  him  that  it  should  be  obeyed  to  the  letter. 
Upon  this,  he  somewhat  modified  his  tone,  and  offered  terms 
of  reconciliation  ;  but  these  I  utterly  rcpudiuted,  and  left 
liim,  ilctermined  to  go  any  where  rather  than  to  stay  with 
him,  or  to  return  home.  This  circumstance  stands  among 
the  many  ad^('rse  ones,  which  have  had  their  influence  in 
directing  my  fate,  and  forming  my  character.  It  shows  the 
necessity  of  a  perfect  acquaintance  with  the  real  character 
of  employers,  on  the  i)ai*t  of  those  parents  who  send  their 
children  from  beneath  their  own  immediate  charge — a  })rc- 
caution  but  too  commonly  neglected. 

Now  it  was,  that  the  unhappy  coolness  which  subsisted 
between  my  [)arents  and  myself  began  to  produce  its  dark 
and  deleterious  fruits — fruits  alike  distasteful  to  both  [)ar- 
ties,  but  especially  injurious  to  me.  My  home  offering  me 
no  hap[)iness,  I  detemiined  to  gratify  my  disposition  for 
wandering.  My  way  led  through  a  distant  part  of  my  na- 
tive village  ;  and,  fearful  of  discovery,  I  reposed  during  the 
remainder  of  the  day  in  a  dry  ditch,  where  I  slept  soundl} 
though  pretty  thoroughly  drenched  by  a  shower  of  rain, 
which  fell  in  the  afternoon.  Towards  night  I  resumed  my 
journey,  and  meeting  a  shepherd  boy,  who  was  acquainted 
with  my  family,  requested  him  to  inform  my  friends  that  I 
had  left  my  situation,  and  was  on  my  way  to  some  distant 
town  in  search  of  another. 

Upon  arriving  at  Boston,  I  sought  the  shelter  of  the  tav- 
ern ;  but.   observing   several   of  my   father's   neigfibors,  I 


28 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGIITOK. 


A  dishonest  drover. 


A  new  mnster. 


•I  I 


I 


H! 


i^i       >iV 


quickly  retired,  to  prevent  detection,  and  spent  the  night  in 
a  very  dejected  and  melancholy  state  of  mind,  under  a  more 
Inimble  roof.  The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  I  pur- 
sued my  way  to  Spillsby,  where  I  airived  in  the  evening. 
There  I  met  with  a  drover,  who  pci'suaded  me  to  accompa- 
ny him  to  a  cattle  fair.  From  thence,  he  engaged  me  to 
assist  him  with  a  drove  of  cattle  to  Horncastle.  On  my 
way,  liapj)ening  to  stop  at  a  hotel  for  refreshment,  the  land- 
lord hired  me  to  become  his  groom  after  I  should  return 
from  Horncastle.  After  a  day's  hard  travel,  the  evening 
beheld  me,  drover,  and  cattle,  safely  lodged  at  the  place  of 
our  destination.  Here  the  drover,  most  ungenerously  and 
unkindly,  treated  me  as  a  perfect  stranger,  refusing  me  any 
compensation  for  my  toil,  and  even  pretending  not  to  know 
me.  Feeling  myself  abused,  I  retired  tombed ;  where,  after 
musing  awhile  on  the  ingratitude  of  man,  and  other  subjects 
suited  to  my  temper  of  mind,  bleep  closed  my  eyes,  and 
shut  out  from  my  mind  my  sorrows  and  perplexities.  Such 
were  my  first  lessons  in  the  school  of  experience — such  the 
fruits  of  juvenile  Avandcrinir. 

Leaving  Horncastle  in  the  morning,  a  few  hours  travel 
brought  me  to  the  door  of  my  new  master,  who  soon  in- 
stalled me  m  my  office,  giving  me  strict  injunctions  to  be 
faithful  to  my  various  duties.  Anxious  to  please,  I  exerted 
my  utmost  energy  to  give  perfect  satisfaction.  But  the 
effort  was  fruitless  ;  for  it  soon  became  apparent  that  fault- 
finding was  an  inherent  distemper  in  my  employer,  which 
had  ever  made  it  impossible  for  domestics  to  continue  long 
in  his  employ.  My  condition  Avas  unpleasant ;  like  that  of 
the  common  drudge,  it  was  one  of  unceasing  toil  and  labor. 
Even  the  Sabbath  brought  me  no  rest,  as  on  that  sacred 
it  was  made  my  task  to  take  a  horse  four  miles  for  a 


day 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


29 


A  hard  situation.        The  mnfriJitrateN  advice.  A  discovery. 


night  in 
r  a  more 
r,  I  piir- 
cvening. 
iiccompa- 
ed  me  to 

On  my 
the  land- 
ild  return 
t  evening 
e  place  ot* 
•ously  and 
12  me  any 
t  to  know 
here,  after 
er  subjects 
eyesj  and 
es.     Such 

such  the 

iurs  travel 
soon  in- 
lions  to  be 

I  exerted 
But  the 

that  fault- 
Iyer,  which 
Itinue  long 
like  that  of 

land  labor. 

hat  sacred 

liles  for  a 


clergyman,  and  return  on  foot  before  breakfast,  and  in  the 
evening  to  go  on  foot  and  bring  it  b.ick  a;^ain.  Nor  was  my 
food  either  suflRcient  or  good ;  it  consisted  of  a  little  half- 
boiled  meat,  and  of  the  coarsest  bread  half-baked,  and  so 
full  of  coals,  that  it  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  it  were  made 
up  with  a  paddle-stick,  and  thrown  on  the  ash-heaj)  to  re- 
ceive a  moderate  scorching.  This,  and  the  cniel  abuse 
which  my  master  continually  lavished  upon  me,  made  my 
life  intolerable,  and  seemed  to  force  me  to  seek  another 
change. 

One  morning,  after  enduring  the  most  unmerciful  abuse, 
I  sought  a  neighboring  clergyman,  who  was  a  magistrate,  in 
order  to  obtain  redress.  Unfortunately  he  was  from  home, 
or,  fis  1  afterwards  learned,  lie  would  have  assisted  me,  as 
he  had  long  known  of  the  brutality  of  my  employer.  Thti 
next  justice  to  whom  I  ajjplied  was  a  gentleman  of  high 
rank,  who,  inste.ad  of  aSxsisting  me,  indignantly  expressed 
his  surprise  that  "  a  boy  of  my  age  should  have  the  pre- 
sumption to  prosecute  a  man,  whose  superior  influence,"  he 
said,  "  would  crush  me,  in  defiance  of  all  that  I  could  say  or 
do ; "  and  continued  he,  "  I  strongly  suspect  that  you  are  as 
deep  in  the  mud  as  your  master  is  in  the  mire  ;  and  you 
had  better  go  home,  and  tell  your  master  to  get  a  stick,  and 
give  you  a  good  floging."  This  mode  of  law-dealing  was 
by  no  means  very  agreeable  to  my  feelings  ;  but  there  was 
no  alternative  but  to  submit  in  patience,  as  I  was  only  a 
poor,  unknown,  and  defenceless  boy. 

I  should  have  left  this  tyrant  of  an  innkeeper  immediate- 
ly, but  for  a  mutual  obligation  to  give  a  month's  notice,  pre- 
yious  to  seperation.  However,  I  gave  him  notice  that  I 
should  quit  r.t  the  end  of  a  month,  to  his  no  small  chargrin. 
To  live  with  such  a  man  was  next  to  impossible. 


30 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   R.    LIGIITON. 


Its  cptne. 


Afflictions  of  p  i/entH. 


Ill  . 


'«    I 


.ill    :;li     ; 


ill 


One  day,  being  engaged  in  my  usual  employment,  a  boy 
came  and  questioned  me  about  my  home  and  ])arents,  in 
such  a  manner  as  showed  him  to  be  acquainted  with  my 
liistory.  From  his  statements  it  ajipeared  that  a  gentleman 
in  the  neighborhood  intended  to  write  to  my  friends,  and 
that  it  was  probable  my  father  would  come  and  carry 
me  home.  To  prevent  this,  I  promised  to  write  myself, 
which  I  accordingly  did,  giving  a  circumstancial  account  of 
all  my  proceeding?,  and  promising  to  return  home  as  soon 
as  my  term  of  hire  sliould  expire. 

This  discovery  of  my  situation,  by  my  parents  was  pure- 
ly accidental ;  or,  perhaps,  it  ought  to  be  called  provi- 
dential. Tlie  reader  will  remember  my  message  sent  by 
the  shejdierd  boy,  when  on  my  Avay  to  Boston.  Some  time 
expired  before  they  received  it ;  but  when  they  did,  it  fell 
upon  them  as  a  cruelly  afflictive  stroke.  My  father  imme- 
diately visited  the  gentleman  whose  service  I  had  left ; 
where,  of  course,  the  tidings  of  my  departure  were  con- 
firmed. Sad  and  sorrowful  were  his  reflections  then.  lie 
thought  of  my  youth — my  Avant  of  experience — my  dan- 
ger, wandering,  for  aught  he  knew,  exposed  to  storm  and 
cold,  hunger  and  nakedness,  a  ready  prey  for  the  wiles  of 
sharpers,  and  the  snares  of  vice.  He  trembled  for  my 
safety,  and  offered  many  a  fervent  prayer  for  my  preserva- 
tion. Sleep  fled  from  his  pillow,  or,  if  it  came,  it  was  only 
to  haunt  him  Avith  painful  dreams  of  his  lost  son,  surround- 
ed with  danger,  or  ingulfed  in  misery.  Little  do  wild  and 
recreant  children  imagine  of  the  sorrow  and  woe  they  cre- 
ate by  their  misconduct.  While  they  are  yielding  to  the 
impulses  of  their  untamed  passions,  the  pillows  of  their 
fond  parents  are  converted  to  daggers.  Solemn  will  be  the 
account  which  such  children  will  have  to  give  in  the  day  of 
judgment ! 


LIFE    OF    -WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITOX. 


81 


Its. 

nt,  a  boy 
jcnts,  in 
with  my 
;entleinan 
ends,  and 
^\^\  carry 
e  myself, 
[vc'count  of 
e  as  soon 

was  puvc- 
led  provi- 
re  sent  by 
Some  time 
did,  it  fell 
her  imme- 
had  lefi; 
were  con- 
then.     He 
■my  dan- 
storm  and 
Ihe  wiles  of 
led  for  my 
preserva- 
it  was  only 
I,  surround- 
wild  and 
they  cre- 
iig  to  the 
s  of  their 
will  be  the 
the  day  of 


BccoinvK  n  day  labnrtT. 


Tries  lo  enlist. 


Xo  intelligence  of  my  situation  was  ali'orded  to  liis  anx- 
iou.s  incpiirie."*,  until,  at  a  ))arty  in  lii.s  neighborhood,  tiic  .sub- 
ject was  mentioned,  und  a  gentleman,  from  the  place  Avliere 
I  was  living,  observed  that  a  boy  answering  such  a  descrip- 
tion was  living  as  groom  at  Mr.  ll's.  This  led  to  my  di.s- 
(ovcry,  as  the  reader  has  already  .seen. 

Alter  my  father  had  heard  from  me,  he  sent  twice,  by  two 
gentlemen,  to  ascertain  my  necessities,  relieve  my  wants, 
and  im})ortune  me  to  return  liome.  lUit,  i'uolish  boy  tlint  I 
•^  was,  I  madly  resisted  their  entreaties,  and,  u[)on  leaving  Mr. 
11.,  cnL^'ined  myself  as  a  day-laborer  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
town.  In  this  despicable  .situation  1  remained  for  some  time  ; 
but  waiics  being  low  and  labor  scarce,  it  was  with  tlie  ut- 
most  dilliculty  that  I  could  obtain  a  bare  subsistence.  In 
consequence  of  this  I  left  the  place,  resolved  to  oiler  myself 
for  a  soldier,  in  the  vain  hoi)e  of  linding  sup|)ort  and  com- 
fort. lUit  where  can  a  rebellious  child  find  rest?  Truly 
nowliere.  Every  j)lace  is  alike  a  place  of  misery  and  dis- 
comlbrt,  while  he  carries  with  him  a  wicked  and  obstinate 
heart. 

rpon  arriving  at  Ilorncastle,  I  found  a  recruiting  party 
belonging  to  the  second  regiment  of  "Life  Guards;"  but 
they  rejected  me  as  being  too  short.  Determined  not  to  be 
disai)pointed,  I  started  lor  Lincoln,  an  adjoining  town.  The 
weather  being  severe  and  stormy,  I  found  it  difllcult  and  un- 
pleasant travelling ;  yet  I  urged  on  my  tedious  way  along 
a  road,  M'hieh  in  some  i)laces  was  literally  lined  with  pat- 
ridges  and  pheasants,  so  tame  as  easily  to  be  caught  j  but 
the  iron  arm  of  the  law  defended  them  with  the  strongest 
penalties. 

At  Lincoln,  I  offered  myself  to  a  pai-ty  of  the  33d  regi- 
ment of  infantry,  and  was  again  rejected  for  the  same  ex- 


•,  !) 


'til      • 
■1'' 

I!     I' 


32 


LIFE    OP    LILLIAH   D.    LIGnTON". 


Rejected  Iwicc. 


The  return. 


Reception. 


M  f 


cuse.  These  disappointments  rendered  me  exceedingly  dit- 
pirited,  and  I  became  the  wretched  victim  of  despondency  ; 
hope  forsook  my  bosom ;  ix)verty,  all  ghastly  and  woe- 
begone, stared  mc  in  the  fiicc,  while  recollections  of  the 
busy  past  crowdeil  in  quick  succession  through  my  heated 
brain.  I  thought  of  my  folly  and  obstinacy,  of  my  discon- 
tent and  disobedience,  until  conscience  lashed  me  as  with  a 
whip  of  scorpions.  Home  never  a])pcared  so  lovely  as  at 
that  moment ;  and  while  its  images  flitted  across  my  memo- 
ry, I  r*  solved  that,  like  the  prodigal,  I  would  "arise  and  go 
to  my  father ; "  and  with  much  shame  and  a  heavy  hejirt,  I 
turned  m}'^  steps  towards  my  father's  house,  where  I  arrived 
the  next  Sabbath  afternoon.  How  many  proud  youth  have 
done  likewise  !  My  young  reader  may  assure  himself  that, 
with  all  his  self-esteem,  disobedience  and  rebellion  to  pa- 
rents will  lead  him  to  similar  humiliation. 

lUit  how  did  my  father  receive  me  ?  With  harshness 
and  unkindness  ?  O,  no  !  But  with  wide  and  o})en  arms. 
I  was  tlieir  lost  son,  happily  and  unexpectedly  restored  ;  and 
in  the  fulness  of  their  parental  afltection  they  lorgave  all. 
Tliey  beguiled  me  into  a  detail  of  my  sufferings  and  wan- 
derings, and  while  they  wept  over  my  sorrows,  gave  sucli 
advice  as  my  circumstances  seemed  to  require.  "Would 
that  it  had  made  a  lasting  impression,  and  produced  an  abi- 
ding obedience  !  Then  had  I  escaped  the  sorrows  and  suf- 
ferings which  befel  me  in  after  life.  But  folly  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  youth,  and  most  severely  do  they  account  for  it 
in  the  "  mellow  years" — the  latter  days  of  life. 

For  a  few  months  I  remained  at  home ;  and  nothing  oc- 
curred to  mar  my  peace  or  disturb  the  mutual  harmony  of 
our  now  happy  family. 

The  following  summer  a  gentleman,  in  an  adjoining  town, 


!!i: 


LIFE    or    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITOK. 


•J3 


nion. 


Anothi'r  bHil  niii!«tor. 


Runs  away. 


iingly  <^»L* 
pondency ; 
and  woc- 
0113  of  the 
niy  heated 
my  discon- 
c  as  with  a 
[ovely  as  at 

my  meiiio- 
irise  and  go 
vvy  heart,  I 
re  I  arrived 

yonth  have 
liimself  that, 
cllion  to  pa- 

h  harshness 

open  arms. 
;stored;  and 

torgave  all. 
yg  and  wan- 
.,  gave  such 
re.      Would 

uced  an  abi- 
lows  and  sut- 
is  the  char- 

.ceount  for  it 

nothing  oc- 
harmony  of 

ioimng  town, 


applied  to  my  father  for  my  services.  With  the  full  con- 
sent of  my  parents,  I  entered  his  employ,  hoping  to  meet 
with  better  success  than  in  my  tbrmer  places.  But  hard 
and  adverse  fortune  seemed  to  attend  my  steps,  and  my  way 
was  filled  with  thorns.  INIy  employer,  though  a  profcsHcd 
Clu-istian,  was  passionate  and  cruel.  Twice  during  my  stay 
he  whipped  me,  and  that,  too,  most  unjustly.  Uninfluenced 
l>y  the  bitterne:*s  of  the  past,  I  again  resolved,  in  the  heat  of 
youthful  passion,  to  run  away  and  roam  at  large  over  the 
i'ountry.  Foolish  purpose  !  wicked  resolve !  I  ought  to 
have  complained  to  my  parents,  and  awaited  their  decision 
in  patience. 

In  the  month  of  September,  my  master  was  taken  sick  ; 
and  this  gave  me  a  fine  opportunity  to  decamp.  Happen- 
ing, just  at  this  time,  to  meet  an  old  acquaintance,  I  told 
him  the  story  of  my  griefs.  He  was  going  to  Stamfbixl,  to 
join  a  militia  corps ;  and  it  required  but  little  persuasion  to 
induce  me  to  accompany  him.  Returning  to  the  house  for 
ray  clothes,  I  met  my  brother  Thomas,  who  had  come  to 
visit  me.  Determined  not  to  be  baflled,  I  wickedly  invented 
an  excuse  for  not  receiving  his  visit,  and  joining  my  thought- 
less con:panIon,  we  set  out  together  for  Stamford. 

Thus,  a  second  time,  I  threw  myself  from  the  arms  of 
friends,  and  rushed  upon  unknown  and  unfathomed  oviU. 
When  1  review  this  period  of  my  life,  luid  reflect  upon  my 
present  condition,  I  feel  compelled  to  thank  Him  who  has 
been  so  good  to  me — who  has  caused  me  to  escape  "  the 
wiles  of  the  devil,"  and  has  taught  me  to  repose  on  the 
bosom  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Af\cr  a  day's  hard  travel,  we  stopped  at  a  tavern,  where, 
to  my  astonishment,  I  learned  that  my  companion  was  pen- 
niless.    To  meet  our  necessities  I  sold  my  watch  ;  and  be- 


H 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOUTON. 


II  ' 


A  wickrd  noinimninn. 


Olililteil  to  bof. 


fore  we  readied  Stamford,  njy  last  ^hillin<T  was  changed  to 
gratify  Iuh  inteinjieraiice.  I'caring  that  his  company  would 
only  procure  my  luin,  I  1(  (t  him,  riul  once  )nor('  felt  my- 
8elf  a  lone  stranger,  amid  a  populalion  wiiose  hard<'ned 
8ym()athies  were  not  (>asily  awakened  hy  the  language  of 
distress,  or  the  tear  of  sorrow.  Finding  a  regiment  of  sol- 
diers her(!,  1  oflenMl  myself  as  a  recruit,  but  was  rejected. 

Necessity  now  induced  me  to  sell  every  article  of  cloth- 
ing which  in  decency  could  he  disnenscd  with.  With  the 
avails,  1  left  this  place,  in  com])any  wiili  a  youth  in  a  similar 
situation,  to  travel  where  fortune  or  Pi'ovidcnce  might  di- 
rect. 

Our  money  Avas  soon  exiiausted,  and,  being  unable  to  ob- 
tain employment,  we  were  compelled  to  throw  ourselves  on 
public  charity  for  support.  The  idea  of  being  common 
beggars,  exposed  to  the  curses  of  those  to  whom  wt  might 
apply  for  aid,  was  extremely  galling,  and  we  could  hardly 
bring  ourselves  to  the  attempt.  At  last,  the  calls  of  hunger 
became  so  loud  and  vociferous,  that  we  presented  ourselves 
at  the  door  of  a  wealthy  farmer,  and  in  a  piteous  tone  told 
our  sorrrowful  tale ;  but  his  heart,  rendered  hard  by  famili- 
arity with  distressed  objects,  refused  to  be  melted,  and  with 
severe  language  he  bade  us  go  our  way.  Disappointed  and 
dejected,  ,3  pursued  our  journey,  and  in  all  probabillity 
should  have  sunken  with  weariness  and  exhaustion,  had  not 
my  companion  found  a  relation  of  his,  who  resided  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  From  her  we  obtained  a  mere  morsel ; 
she  being  any  thing  but  a  cheerful  giver.  It  was  enough, 
however  to  recruit  weary  nature,  and  to  strenghen  us  anew 
for  our  task. 

We  arrived  that  night  at  Sleaford,  a  populous  town,  or- 
namented with  elegant  modern  buildings,  and  ancient  edi- 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    n.    LUiHTON. 


86 


iiigcd  to 
ny  woultl 
lolt  mv- 
hanlciird 
ifi;ii5\Ut!  of 
ut  of  sol- 
•cjoctctl. 
of  clolh- 
With  the 
a  similar 
might  (li- 

ible  to  ob- 
rselvcs  on 
t  common 
w(  might 
lid  hardly 
of  hung(>r 

ourselves 
Is  tone  told 

by  famili- 
|,  and  with 
lointed  and 
irobabilUty 
^n,  had  not 
led  in  that 

re  morsel ; 

as  enough, 
In  us  anew 

town,  or- 
Incient  edi- 


VUits  tilcarord.        C'hcuU  tholimkcnprr.        Distressed  Nltuation. 


licc's  the  remains  of  Guthlf  si)lendor,  and  beautified  with 
the  most  ddiglitliil  of  nature's  productions.  Hut,  ulus  !  to 
me  all  was  gloomy  and  uninltMcstiiig ;  for  out  of  the  nu- 
merous habitiulons,  not  one  allbnlcd  me  a  shelter  ;  out  of 
the  prolific  storeys  of  food  it  con(aiiu«l,  not  one  morsel  ollered 
itself  to  meet  my  wants.  I  filt  solitary  an)id  the  hundredi' 
who  flocked  along  the  busy  streets.  I  sighed  for  my  father's 
home.  After  some  consultation,  we  agreed  to  seek  a  shelter 
uiKler  the  roof  of  some  friendly  iim.  Conscious  we  could 
not  pay  our  bill,  and  unwilling  to  cheat  to  any  amount,  we 
retired  to  bed  without  any  supper.  So  great  was  our  fatigue 
that  we  sle])t  but  little  ;  and  with  the  earliest  beams  of 
moining  we  ai"ose.  Descending  the  stairs  with  great  trep- 
idation, we  found  none  but  the  domestics  below.  Bidding 
them  prepare  our  breakfast  while  we  took  a  short  walk,  wc 
left  the  house  and  thus  cheated  theju  out  of  their  due  for 
our  lodging.  This  was  a  very  crimijial  act,  and  one  which 
1  can  only  think  of  with  shame.  My  companion  discovered 
atiother  of  his  ac([uaiuta!ices  in  this  place,  and  from  him  we 
obtained  a  henrty  meal. 

"We  next  directed  our  steps  towards  Lincohi,  begging  our 
support  by  the  v/ay.  Late  in  the  evening  vrc  reaeh(!d  it, 
and  adopted  (he  same  v/lckod  p!;m  to  obtain  a  lodging  as  on 
the  previous  night,  b;it  v.ith  less  success;  lor  on  leaving 
in  the  morning  wc  were  pcrsued  by  soine  of  the  family, 
and  severely  reprehended  for  our  di^honci-ty  and  deception. 

Lincoln,  the  ca])ital  or  county  town  of  Lincolnshire,  is 
one  of  the  mo.^t  noted  cities  of  England.  "  It  is  seated  on 
the  side  of  a  steep  hill  oji  the  Witham,  v/hich  here  divides 
into  tv/o  streams.  It  had  formerly  fifty  churches,  now  re- 
duced to  thirte  .>n,  besides  the  cathedral.  The  cathedral  ia 
admired  for  its  architecture,  v/hich  is  the  richest  and  lightest 


,ll  (I 


96 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTOIT, 


Lincoln. 


The  retarn  home. 


Hamiliation. 


Gothic  Style ;  its  great  bell,  called  Tom  of  Lincohf  re- 
quires twelve  men  to  ring  it." 

Leaving  this  place,  we  were  completely  discouraged, 
Our  hearts  sunk  within  us.  We  talked  about  our  homes 
and  their  comforts,  until  we  were  overwhelmed  with  grief, 
and  mortified  for  our  folly.  Seeing  no  way  to  prosper,  we 
agreed  to  go  back  to  our  parents.  With  aching  hearts  and 
weary  limbs,  we  commenced  our  journey  homewards  in 
gloomy  silence,  for  otir  sorrows  were  too  big  for  utterance, 
and  we  were  filled  with  shame,  the  natural  result  of  our 
wicked  conduct.  Young  persons  should  alwpys  remember, 
that  there  is  a  recTconing  day  before  them.  On  the  way  I 
let  myself  to  a  gentleman,  whose  pity  had  satisfied  our 
liun<?er.  I  agreed  to  return  on  Mondav  of  the  following 
week,  after  seeing  my  parents.  He  gave  me  a  shilling  as 
earnest  money,  upon  which  we  subsisted  during  the  rest  of 
our  journey  home.  When  near  my  father's  roy  compan- 
ion left;  me,  and  I  have  never  seen  him  since. 

Left  alone,  I  retired  to  a  solitary  spot,  where,  in  happier 
days,  I  had  indulged  in  many  a  flight  of  youthful  fancy ; 
but  now  dejection  sat  upon  my  brow,  and  sorrow  brooded 
around  my  heaving  heart.  The  solemn  stillness  of  nature 
accorded  with  my  feelings,  and  seemed  to  sympathize  with 
mv  distress.  I  staid  here  until  my  brother  Thomas  dis- 
tarbed  my  reveries.  His  presence  soothed  my  feelings,  un- 
til he  informed  me  thai  my  father  was  highly  incensed 
against  me  for  my  rebellious  conduct.  I  wept  and  trem- 
bled. Bitterly  did  I  mourn  over  my  folly,  and  keenly  did 
I  regret  the  fatal  step  that  histened  my  departure  from  my 
situation.  At  length  I  ventured  to  appear  before  my 
offbnded  father,  who  treated  me  with  the  most  repulsive 
coldness.    He  talked  to  me  seriously  and  severely,  and 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


37 


The  reception. 


An  unhappy  separation. 


ohy  re- 

)uraged, 
•  homes 
h  grief, 
3per,  we 
arts  and 
svards  in 
Iterance, 
t  of  our 
imember, 
le  way  I 
sfied  our 
following 
liilling  as 
le  rest  of 
compan- 

n  happier 
Lil  fancy; 
brooded 
lof  nature 
;bize  with 
»ma9  dis- 
slings,  un- 
incensed 
md  trem- 
leenly  did 
from  my 
lefore  my 
repulsive 
|rely,  and 


gave  me  some  very  strict  njunctions  in  regard  to  my  future 
behavior,  to  which  I  humbly  promised  the  most  implicit 
obedience. 

This  was  on  the  Sabbath.  I  had  promised  to  return  to 
my  new  employer  on  the  morrow.  So  I  told  ray  father  of 
my  engagement,  and  expressed  my  wish  tofuliil  it,  to  which 
he  angrily  replied, 

"  You  may  go,  sir,  and  I  wish  you  would  never  come 
back  again.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  any  more.  I  care 
not  where  you  go,  nor  what  becomes  of  you." 

This  harsh  reply  stung  me  to  the  quick.  It  fell  upon  me 
like  the  bursting  of  a  thunder-cloud.  I  could  neither  say 
nor  do  any  thing  to  remove  his  anger,  or  propitiate  hia  fa- 
vor. I  wished  for  the  hour  of  separation,  as  one  looks  for 
an  escape  from  prison.  I  thought  too,  tliat  I  never  woulc*. 
return,  but  that  if  I  failed  in  gainhig  domestic  service,  I 
would  become  a  soldier  or  a  sailor,  or  indeed  any  thing 
rather  than  to  return  home. 

Early  the  next  morning  1  was  visited  by  Mr  Ingraham, 
an  aged  gentleman,  who  reasoned  with  me  and  counselled 
me  like  a  tender  father,  informing  me  for  my "  encourage- 
ment, that  my  father  intended  to  settle  me  in  some  business 
as  soon  as  my  age  and  experience  should  authorize  such  a 
step.  To  this  advice  1  3  added  a  triflhigsiun  of  money,  and 
left  me.  AVIiile  reflecting  upon  his  advice,  I  met  my  fath- 
er, whose  cold  and  repulsive  manner  chilled  my  heart.  He 
wiis  about  to  leave  home,  and  without  exchanging  a  word 
we  parted  toi  the  last  time !  I  gazed  upon  him  as  he  rece- 
ded, hoping  ihrt  he  woula  return  and  give  a  parting  word; 
but  he  i)assed  on  and  left  me  in  a  cruel  silence.  I  have 
never  seen  him  since. 

This  was  wrong.    My  dear  father  should  have   known 

4* 


m 


LIFB    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIOHTON, 


Reflections. 


An  appeal  to  the  young. 


1:1 


^ 


human  nature  better.  I  was  really  penitent,  and  a  good 
word  might  have  won  my  affections  and  mj  obedience. 
But  his  coldness  put  out  my  kindling  affections,  and  drove 
me  into  foolish  purposes  of  revenge.  I  secretly  vowed  nev- 
er to  trouble  him  again  with  my  presence.  But  I  have  no 
doubt  of  the  purity  of  his  motives.  He  thought  this  sever- 
ity of  manner  necessary.  I  had  abused  his  fpnner  kindness, 
and  he  no  doubt  did  violence  to  his  feelings  in  maintaining 
silence.  He  mtended  to  inflict  a  deserved  punishment. 
His  error  was  one  of  the  judgment  and  not  of  the  heart. 
But  though  it  cost  me  much  pain  of  mind,  and  excited  de- 
terminations never  to  return  home  again,  yet  a  secret  mon- 
itor within  silently  whispered,  "  The  fault  is  your  own  !  " 

Young  reader,  have  you  parents?  Does  God  still,  in 
kindness,  spare  the  authors  of  your  existence?  If  so, 
remember  your  paramount  duty — obedience  to  their  righte- 
ous wishes.  They  arc  the  authors  of  your  being,  and  under 
(rod  the  means  of  your  preservation  from  helpless  infancy 
until  now.  They  have  done  all  in  their  power  to  make  you 
respectable  in  life.  Is  not  your  love  due  in  return  ?  Can- 
not they  justly  claim  a  degree  of  affection  from  you,  that  no 
othpr  human  beings  can  ask  ?  How  dare  you,  then,  live  in 
daily  opposition  to  their  will  ?  During  your  minority,  they 
ritand  to  you  in  the  place  of  God ;  and  rebellioj.  Itst  their 
wishes  is  considered,  in  the  old,  good  book,  to  >  .  rebellion 
:figainst  God.  You  cannot  therefore,  expect  to  possess  the 
smile  of  the  deity  until  you  obey  the  injunction,  "  Children 
obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord."  See  Col.  iii.  20.  Eph. 
vi.  1.     Matt.  XV.  4,  and  Ex.  xx.  12. 

Disobedience  to  parents  is  the  most  fruitful  source  of 
wretchedness  and  misery.  The  greater  number  of  those, 
who  Qome  to  an  untimely  end,  confess  that  this,  with  the 


lie  youni;. 


,  and  a  good 
\j  obedience. 
IS,  and  drove 
Y  vowed  nev- 
>ut  I  have  no 
ht  this  sever- 
aer  kindness, 
1  maintaining 

punishment. 

of  the  heart, 
i  excited  de- 
1,  secret  mon- 
mr  own  !  " 
God  still,  in 
nee?     If  so, 

>  their  righte- 
ig,  and  under 
pless  infancy 

to  make  you 
tarn  ?  Can- 
yon, that  ro 
then,  live  in 
iinority,  they 
ag  d'lst  their 

>  tx  rebellion 
to  possess  the 
n,  "  Children 
ii.  20.     Eph. 


ful  source  of 
her  of  those, 
this,  with  the 


.1 


■m 


I 


\t 


■It 


i'  *, 


it  I 


!'  0!  '^ 


■I    '■■    :i 


m 


r**l|      i 


l:.'l 


m 


Ml 


B 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


39 


Boston  church-yurd. 


S       ^' 


iml 


violation  of  the  holy  Siibbiith,  were  the  principal  causes  of 
their  ruin.  These  sins  raised  the  Hood-gates,  and  let  in 
streams  of  vices,  which  drowned  their  souls  in  crime  and 
ignominy.     Reader,  art  thou  guilty?     Beware,  and  take 


warnmg 


Humble  thyself  and  repent,  or  thou  wilt  be  lost 
forever.     From  such  a  fearful  fate  may  God  save  thee  ! 

But  to  resume  my  narrative.  After  breakfast,  my  moth- 
er informed  me  of  her  intention  to  accompany  me  as  far  as 
the  neighboring  town  of  Boston.  I  took  an  affectionate 
farewell  of  all  the  members  of  the  family,  and  told  my 
brother  Thomas,  that  "  I  should  not  see  any  of  them  for  ten 
years  at  least" — a  prediction  but  too  truly  fulfilled !  At 
length,  amid  their  tears  and  prayers,  I  left  the  endearing 
circle.  But  oh  !  v/liat  were  my  emotions  !  I  cannot  des- 
cribe them.  My  trembling  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I 
gave  vent  to  my  pent-up  feelings  in  a  floe  ^  of  tears,  as  I  look- 
ed back  for  the  last  time  upon  the  liome  of  my  youth. 

My  mother  improved  the  moments  occupied  by  our  walk, 
ill  giving  me  the  lest  advice.  Upon  our  arrival  at  Boston, 
she  purchased  me  a  suit  of  new  clothes,  and  then  conducted 
me  into  the  church-yard,  that  in  solitude,  she  might  take  a 
last  embrace  of  a  v/ayv/ard  child.  That  sacred  spot — that 
lonely  grave-yard — is  still  impressed  upon  my  memory. 
It  was  there,  my  mother  pressed  her  last  v.'arm  kiss  of  af- 
fection to  my  burning  cheeks ;  tliero,  I  received  her  bust 
embrace  :  there  I  heard  her  last  words.  They  still  Hoat 
upon  my  ears ;  even  now  do  I  seem  to  hear  her  last  expres- 
sion, "  Farewell,  my  son ;  be  a  good  boy."  There  was  a 
holy  sweetness  in  that  voice,  which  has  ever  operated  like 
a  charm  on  my  soul,  and  which  the  clianges  of  time  have 
not  obliterated.  Could  I  reward  her  for  the  love  and  kind- 
ness she  showed  me,  in  this,  my  never-forgotten  trouble,  how 


40 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


Stroiipth  of  nititurniil  love. 


gladly  would  I  sieze  the  precioas  opportunity,  and  tender 
my  willing  services  at  her  feet !  The  strengh  of  a  mother's 
attachnient  who  can  express  ?  It  transcends  all  other  at- 
tachments, in  purity,  in  strength,  and  in  duration ;  one  of 
our  finest  female  poets  has  strongly  illusf"ated  this  remark 
in  one  of  her  best  productions.     She  says — 


"  There  is  nono 
In  all  this  cold  and  ho'lov;  world,  no  fount 
Of  deep,  strong,  deathless  love  save  that  within 
A  mothei-'s  heart.     It  is  but  pride,  wherewith 
To  his  fair  son  the  father's  eye  doth  turn, 
Watching  his  growth.     Ay,  on  the  boy  he  looks, 
The  bright,  glad  creature,  springing  in  his  path. 
But  as  the  heir  of  his  great  name,  the.  young 
And  stately  tree,  whose  rising  strength  ere  long 
Shall  bear  his  trophies  well.     And  th-s  is  love  ! 
This  is  man's  love  !     What  marvel  !     You  ne'er  made 
Your  breast  the  pillow  of  his  infancy, 
While  to  the  fulness  of  your  heart's  glad  hoavings 
His  fair  check  rose  and  fell,  and  his  bright  hair 
Waved  softly  to  your  breast !     You  ne'er  kept  watch 
Beside  him,  till  the  last  pale  star  had  set. 
And  morn,  all  dazzling,  as  in  triumph,  broke 
On  your  dim,  weary  eye  ;  not  your's  the  face 
Which  early  faded,  throu^^h  fond  care  for  him. 
Hung  o'er  his  sleep,  and,  duly  as  heaven's  light, 
Was  there  to  greet  his  v/akcning  !      You  ne'er  smothed 
His  couch  ;  ne'er  sung  him  to  his  rosy  rest. 
Caught  his  last  v/hi^per,  v.hoii  his  voice  from  yours 
Had  learned  soft  utterance,  pressed  your  lips  to  his 
When  fever  parched  it,  hushed  hiu  wayward  cries 
With  patient,  vigilant,  never- wearied  love, 
No  !  these  arc  icoman's  tasks.     In  these  her  youth, 
And  bloom  of  cheek,  and  buoyancy  of  heart, 
Steal  from  her  all  unmarked." 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITON. 


41 


A  lonely  walk. 


A  new  situation. 


Lhed 


Being  left  alone,  I  pursued  my  way  with  diligence,  though 
deeply  affected  by  my  recent,  and,  as  I  determined,  final 
separation  from  home.  But  the  pprightliness  and  buoyan- 
cy of  youth  soon  triumphed  over  my  dejection.  The  coun- 
try through  which  I  passed  was  surpassingly  beautiful,  pre- 
senting a  richness  of  scenery  rarely  equalled.  Beautiful 
lawns  skirted  with  ancient  oaks,  the  pride  of  Britain  ;  and 
wide-arching  elms,  under  the  sheltering  foilage  of  which 
the  bounding  deer  and  timid  fawn  sought  relief  from  the 
glowing  sunbeam  ;  splendid  mansions,  the  abode  of  titled 
greatness ;  gardens  and  shrubberies, — all  lay  stretched  out 
before  me,  while  my  path  lay  along  the  banks  of  the  quiet 
and  beautiful  Witham.  I  felt  the  influence  of  the  scene, 
and  traveling  cheerfully  along,  employed  my  mind  in  form- 
ing plans  for  the  regulation  of  my  future  conduct,  and  in 
dreaming  splendid  day-dreams,  which  were  like  a  child's 
soap-bubbles,  blown  but  to  break  in  air.  But  life  has  many 
soap-bubbles. 

Early  in  the  evening,  I  arrived  at  the  place  of  my  desti- 
nation, and  was  kindly  received  by  the  gentleman  who  had 
employed  me,  and  soon  initiated  into  the  duties  of  my  new 
station.  My  master  I  found  to  be  single,  respectable,  and 
tojnperate.  His  ftimily  consisted  of  himself  and  housekeep- 
er, a  most  lovely  woman,  whom  I  soon  loved  and  esteemed 
as  a  mother.  I  now  thought  I  should  be  happy,  and  con- 
tented to  spend  many  years  in  so  pleasant  and  favorable  a 
situation.  But  alas !  how  delusive  are  all  earthborn  hopes  ! 
An  unexpected  occurrence  blasted  my  prospects,  dashed 
the  cup  of  comfort  from  my  lips,  and  threw  me,  once  more, 
an  unhappy  wanderer  upon  the  wide  world. 

This  occurrence  was  the  visit  of  my  master's  mother,  a 
most  unhappy  wom^m,  and  a  notorious  scold.     She  bad  no 


42 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOHTON. 


An  old  iiculd. 


Tiic  dismission. 


sooner  arrived  twan  she  commenced  lier  welli  or  rather  ill- 
contracted  method  of  censuring  and  scolding  all  who  came 
in  her  way.  Her  doleful  strains  commenced  with  the  morn- 
ing, and  ceased  only  with  the  day.  At  night  she  lodged  a 
short  distance  from  her  son's  house,  and  it  devolved  on  me 
to  accompany  her  home.  These  few  moments  she  regular- 
ly improved  by  pouring  out  a  bitter  volley  of  abuse  upon 
my  unoffending  head — the  most  unmcrcil'ul  that  ever  dis- 
graced a  woman's  lip.  I  was  always  happy  to  arrive  at  her 
door,  and  thus  rid  myself  of  the  company  of  such  an 
abominable  old  scold.  On  my  way  back,  it  comforted  me 
to  reflect  that  she  had,  at  least,  a  partial  reward  in  the  mis- 
ery w^hich  is  consequent  upon  the  possession  of  so  vile  a 
disposition. 

The  amiable  woman  who  was  our  housekeeper,  unable  to 
endure  such  manifestations  of  a  wretched  temper,  left  her 
situation.  Her  place  was  immediately  supplied  by  one,  the 
very  reverse  of  her  disposition,  and  the  exact  counterpart 
of  our  old  scold.  She  from  some  cause  or  other,  conceived 
a  dislike  towards  me,  and  poured  volumes  of  complaint  into 
my  employer's  ears.  He  believed  the  whole,  upon  no  other 
evidence  than  her  mere  assertion  ;  and  one  morning,  calling 
me  into  his  apartment,  he  gave  mc  the  mean  sum  of  one 
shilling  for  my  six  weeks'  labor,  and  told  me  I  might  con- 
sider myself  dismissed  from  his  service. 

With  this  trifling  pittance,  I  left  for  the  city  of  Lincoln, 
where  I  spent  the  following  night.  There  I  disposed  of 
such  clothing  as  I  could  spare,  that  I  might  have  the  means 
of  traveling,  and  then  went  to  Doncaster,  and  from  thence 
to  LeeVls,  in  Yorkshire.  This  place  aiibrded  many  interes- 
ting objects,  which  served  to  divert  my  mind  while  my 
money  lasted.    The  splendid  cloth  market  was  the   most 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOnTON. 


43 


isiun. 


Lerds'  cluth  innrkrt  ilrsrribcd. 


rather  ill- 

who  came 

the  morn- 
5  lodged  a 
ved  on  me 
lie  regular- 
ibuse   upon 
at  ever  dis- 
rrivc  at  her 
of  such   an 
)ral'orted  me 
I  in  the  rais- 
of  so  vile  a 

er,  unable  to 
per,  left  her 
by  one,  the 
counterpart 
r,  conceived 
mplaint  into 
pon  no  other 
ning,  calling 
sum  of  one 
might  con- 

of  Lincoln; 
disposed  ol" 
re  the  meaiis 
from  thence 
lany  intcres- 
^d  while  my 
IS  the  most 


striking.  It  is  probably  the  linest  in  the  world,  as  Leeds 
itself  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  towns  in  England,  or 
perhaps  in  Europe,  for  woolen  mannfactures.  The  mode 
of  doing  business  is  perhaps  peculiar  to  this  market.  "  At 
six  o'clock  in  the  summer,  and  about  seven  in  the  winter, 
the  market  bell  rings  ;  upon  which,  in  a  few  miiuites,  with- 
out hurry,  noise,  or  the  least  die;ordcr,  the  wliule  market  is 
filled,  all  the  benches  covered  with  cloth,  as  close  to  one 
another  as  the  pieces  can  lie  lengthways,  each  proprietor 
standing  l>ehind  his  own  piece.  As  soon  as  the  bell  has 
(M^ased  ringing,  the  factors  and  buyeis  of  all  sorts  enter  the 
hall  and  walk  up  and  down,  as  their  occasions  direct. 
AVhen  they  have  pitched  upon  their  cloth,  they  lean  over  to 
the  clothier,  and  by  a  whisper,  in  the  fewest  words  imagin- 
able, the  price  is  stated.  One  asks,  the  other  bids,  and  they 
agree  or  disagree  in  a  moment.  In  little  more  than  an 
liour,  all  the  business  is  done ;  ten  or  twenty  thousand 
pounds  worth  of  cloth,  and  sometimes  more,  is  bought  and 
Bold  with  a  whisper  only  ;  the  laws  of  the  market,  here, 
being  more  strictly  observed  than  at  any  place  in  England." 
The  rich  and  splended  gas-works,  by  which  the  town  is 
lighted  up  throughout  at  night,  are  no  small  addition  to  its 
beauty. 

During  my  stay,  I  was  indefatigable  in  my  efforts  to  ob- 
tain employment,  but  in  vain.  My  situation  was  now  ex- 
ceedingly painful,  as  winter  was  rapidly  approaching,  and 
to  be  friendless  and  moneyless  during  its  inclemencies  would 
*,x[)ose  me  to  much  suffering,  if  not  to  death.  To  prevent 
this,  I  went  to  Barnsley  and  Wakefield,  two  noted  towns, 
where  I  obtained  only  a  day  or  two's  labor.  As  the  fair 
was  about  to  commence  at  Leeds,  I  returned  thither,  in 
liopes  to  find  something  to  do  amid  that  scene  of  bustle  and 


44 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITON. 


Wan<lcr<  nbout  distrnssed  and  houHvlesn. 


A  dlsHppiiinied  rpcnitt. 


I  In  I 


noise.  A  number  of  days  passed  in  a  fruitless  search  for 
employment,  during  which  I  drew  my  subsistence  from  the 
meagre  gifts,  of  charity.  Seeing  no  other  prospect  of  escape 
from  starvation,  I  determined  once  more  to  try  my  fortune 
at  enlistment,  not  of  choice,  but  from  seeming  necessity. 
Probably  the  greater  number  of  Britain's  immense  armies 
are  men  who  entered  that  service  on  a  similar  impulse. 
Suffering  or  enlistment  is  the  alternative  of  many  unfortu- 
nates ;  to  escape  the  former,  they  choose  the  latter ;  and 
thus  England  tills  her  battalions ! 

Finding  a  sergeant  of  the  33d  regiment,  I  enlisted  for 
the  6th  regiment  of  foot,  then  lying  at  Leeds.  Upon  beinjr 
marched  before  the  colonel  and  officers  of  the  regiment,  I 
passed  the  standard  ;  but  on  being  more  circumspectly  ex- 
amined, was  pronounced  unlit  for  service — being  luUf  an 
inch  shorter  than  the  height  required  by  law  for  soldiers  of 
that  regiment.  The  colonel  jocosely  remarked,  on  my  n> 
jection, 

"  My  lad,  if  you  wish  to  be  a  soldier,  go  home  and  grow 
a  little  more,  and  then  we  will  take  you." 

Disappointed,  I  next  went  to  York,  a  city  celebrated  for 
the  splendor  of  its  cathedral,  which  is  considered  one  of  the 
most  elegant  and  magnificent  Gothic  structures,  in  the  Unit- 
ed Kingdom.  Piissing  from  thence  to  the  next  town,  1 
found  the  populace  in  much  tumult  and  disorder,  being  en- 
gaged in  burning  an  elfigy  of  the  reigning  king,  (George 
IV.,)  whose  cruelty  and  baseness  towards  his  wife  had 
drawn  upon  him  the  odium  and  contempt,  not  only  of  his 
own  subjects,  but  of  every  feeling  and  enlightened  man  in 
the  world,  who  had  become  fully  acquainted  with  the  sub- 
ject Calling  at  a  tavern,  I  learned  that  a  recruiting  ser- 
geant was  siatiot.ed  there  for  the  night ;  upon  which  I  dec!- 


i 


I.IFE    OF    -WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITOX. 


15 


ed  recmtt. 

9  search  for 
ice  from  the 
ect  of  escape 
r  my  fortune 
g  necessity, 
nense  armiea 
lilar  impulse, 
lany  unfortu- 
1  latter;  and 

enlisted  for 
Upon  ham^ 
le  regiment,  I 
jmspcctly  ex- 
)eing  liiilf  an 
or  soldiers  of 
id,  on  my  n- 

>me  and  grow 

celebrated  for 
Bd  one  of  the 
in  the  Unit- 
kext  town,  1 
ker,  being  en- 
[ing,  (George 
lis  wife  had 
|t  only  of  hia 
3ned  man  in 
nth  the  sub- 
[cruiting  ser- 
rhich  I  deci- 


'4 


A  ph'ce  or  cunnini;. 


Ita  detection. 


(led  to  try  once  more  to  become  a  soldier  ;  my  sitnaticm  had 
become  tndy  dt'i>lor!ible.  I  had  very  little  clothes  remain- 
ing, and  was  wholly  destitute  of  money. 

I  retired  to  bed  faint,  weary,  and  supperless.  The  next 
niorninjr,  determined  not  to  be  too  short  this  time,  I  pro- 
cured a  quunlity  of  paper,  made  socks  for  my  feet  and 
drawing  my  stockings  over  them,  went  again  to  undergo  a 
•Iread  ordeal.  Placing  myself  beneath  the  standard,  my 
height  s<?emed  sufficient ;  and  the  sergeant  was  about  to 
pass  me,  when  he  asked  me  with  a  look  that  expressed  ex- 
perience in  this  mode  of  deception^ 
"  Are  your  stockings  thick  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I,  as  a  blush  of  conscious  guilt  tinged 
my  pale  cheek. 

Dissatisfied  with  my  mere  denial,  he  proceeded  to  examine 
the  bottom  of  my  feet  with  as  much  care  as  if  he  feared  to 
catch  some  foul  disorder.  My  contrivance  was  of  course 
discovered,  and  he  dismissed  me  with  so  severe  a  reprimand, 
as  taught  me  to  be  cautious  of  using  paper  to  increase  my 
height,  and  made  me  feel  deeply  ashamed  of  my  low  and 
u^uiitv  cunninu;. 

On  my  way  to  the  next  town,  I  entered  a  tavern  to  .so- 
licit a  little  food.  A  gentl(>man  who  hai)pened  to  be  there, 
perceiving  my  destitution,  and  pitying  my  condhion,  re- 
lieved my  present  necessities ;  after  which  he  addressed  me 
Lhub' : 

••  Youn,"^  man,  I  am  in  want  of  a  substitute  to  serve  in  the 
militia.  Should  you  like,  for  a  fair  compensation,  to  under- 
take the  service?  " 

Pleased  with  the  prospect  of  employment,  I  eagerly 
replied,  "  Yes  sir,  most  cheerfully." 

"  What  compensation  should  you  require  ?  "  asked  he. 


46 


LIFK    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LKillTON. 


)■*' 


A  ploasHut  Intorvlow.    An  onR.igoment.    The  mllltiA  of  England  and  Anicrlcii. 

"  Whjitcvor  you  please  to  give,  sir,"  said  I,  willing  to  get 
CKjciipation  at  any  rale. 

"  Well,"  n'plied  he,  "  1  will  fijivc  you  £4  if  you  will  serve 
jw  my  substitute  for  five  years  in  the  North  York  Militia." 

"Agreed,"  said  I,  my  eyes  sparkling  with  delight  at  the 
prospect  of  possessing  sucth  a  sum  of  money. 

Aceordingly  he  took  m(!  home,  and  hired  my  board  until 
the  meeting  of  the  stafl',  for  "  swearing  in,"  or  receiving  the; 
oath  of  such  as  were  drafted  for  the  mililia.  I  then  took 
the  usual  oath,  and  was  duly  enlisted.  Every  thing  being 
nettled,  and  the  gentleman  being  freed  from  all  responsibili- 
ty in  the  case,  he  refused  to  pay  mc  more  than  £2,  promi- 
sing to  pay  the  remainder  when  the  regiment  assembled  for 
duty.  As  this  period  was  very  uncertain,  I  took  the  money 
he  offered,  and  vexed  at  his  dishonorable  conduct,  determin- 
ed never  to  meet  or  do  military  dut'  >r  him,  but  to  depart 
to  some  other  part  of  the  countr^  This  of  course  was 
wrong,  because  one  dishonest  act  can  never  make  another 
right.  The  sin  of  one  man  does  not  justify  the  sin  of  an- 
other, although  he  may  be  the  sufferer  by  the  other's  wrongs  • 
better  to  suffer,  than  to  do  wrong. 

The  method  pursued  in  England  with  the  militia  is  dif- 
ferent from  that  in  America.  There,  only  a  given  number 
is  drafted  from  each  town.  These  assemble  one  month  in  a 
year,  for  instruction  in  military  duty ;  during  which  term, 
they  are  supplied  with  a  suit  of  regimentals,  gun,  and  equip- 
ments by  the  goverment,  which  are  returned  at  the  close  of 
the  month's  service.  In  times  of  peace,  however,  the  mili- 
tia is  seldom  or  ever  called  out,  though  regularly  drafted. 

The  next  morning,  I  left  the  gentleman  and  militia  be- 
hind, and  took  the  stage  on  my  way  to  London.  At  Stam- 
ford  I  left  the  stage,  and  pursued  my   way  on   foot  to 


LIFK    OF    WILLIAM    n.    LKillTON. 


47 


I  iinii  Aiiirrini. 


illing  to  get 


u  will  serve 
•k  Militia." 
;liglit  at  the 

board  until 
eociving  the 
I  then  took 
thing  being 
responsibili- 
\  £2,  promi- 
sscmbled  for 
k  the  money 
ct,  determin- 
)ut  to  depart 
course  was 
ike   another 
e  sin  of  an- 
er's  wrongs ; 

ilitia  is  dif- 
en  number 
month  in  a 
which  term, 
I,  and  equip- 
the  close  of 
|er,  the  mili- 
draftcd. 
militia  be" 
At  Stam- 
on   foot  to 


Arrival  at  Coventry. 


The  n'crulling  M'rK«'iinl. 


Huntingdon,  where,  fiilling  in  company  with  a  young  man 
vho  JKul  rcc'<'ntlv  visited  the  mctnipolis,  he  dissuaded  inu 
from  going  thillier,  by  convincing  me  that  my  inexperience 
would  expose  me  to  great  dangei*  from  the  abounding  vices 
and  tem[»t.;tionH  of  that  great  laboratory  of  virtue  and  of 
crime. 

Changing  my  phm  through  the  advice  of  this  new  friend, 
my  vacillating  stei)H  were  next  ttirned  towards  Coventry. 
Destitute,  melancholy,  and  wretched,  I  walked  slowly  on, 
mourning  over  my  untbrtunatc  condition.  Towards  evening, 
a  y<»ung  man  overtook  me,  to  whom  my  tale  of  sorrow  was 
mifolded.  He  listened  with  friendly  attention,  and  gave  nn* 
much  wholosoinc!  and  comforting  ad\  ice  ;  for  the  time  being, 
it  ha<l  a  v,hole,>^ome  inlhuMice  on  my  mind;  and  my  remem- 
brance of  this  brief  "iitervicw  is  ever  accompanied  v.illi 
gratitude  for  his  good  intentions  and  well  meant  counsels. 
After  he  left  me,  a  post-chaise  passed,  and  jumping  on  b<  - 
hind  unperccived  by  the  driver,  I  was  soon  in  the  streets  of 
Coventry. 

My  iirst  effort  was  to  obtain  something  to  eat.  Not 
having  a  farthing  of  money,  begging  was  my  only  alterna- 
tive ;  and  this  failed,  lilo  one  would  give  me  even  a  crust. 
At  last,  meeting  a  friendly  looking  man,  I  asked  him, 

"  Sir,  is  there  a  recruiting-party  in  town  ?" 

''  Yes,"  re])h'cd  be  ;  "do  you  wish  to  find  one?" 

*'  Yes,  I  want  to  enlist,"  was  my  eager  reply. 

"  "Well,  come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  wlierc  the 
sergeant  is  quartered,"  said  he,  evidently  pleased  with  the 
chance  of  conducting  me  to  tliiit  olficer.  He  obtained  a 
trifling  bounty,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  for  securing  me  as 
a  recruit. 

The  sergeant  to  whom  he  introduced  me,  afler  asking 


T 


"IWB^P'"''" 


■  Ni^i.>ni  lu^fw" 


wi'iMJWn^l^i*""!! 


48 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


The  enlistment. 


f  1 


n 


i! 


some  questions,  gave  me  some  bread  and  cheese,  and  beer, 
and  procured  me  a  lodging,  promising  to  see  to  my  en- 
listment in  the  morning.  In  the  morning  he  ascertained 
my  height  by  the  military  standard,  and  told  me  I  >vas  too 
short  for  every  regiment  but  one,  which  was  the  COth  rifle 
corps.  "With  many  flaming  descriptions  of  a  soldier's  life, 
he  urged  me  to  enlist  in  that ;  stating  that  it  was  in  Ameri- 
ca, and  that  the  recruits  would  be  sent  thither  at  the 
earliest  opportunity.  The  information  of  the  location  of 
the  regiment  settled  the  question.  Here  was  an  opportuni- 
ty offered  to  visit  the  country  of  which  I  had  read  and  heard 
so  much,  and  which  had  interested  my  mind  so  intensely  for 
several  years. 

Being  pronounced  fit  for  sen'ice,  the  sergeant  conducted 
me  to  the  officer  appointed  to  administer  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance. "  How  long,"  said  this  gentleman,  "  will  you  serve  ?'* 
"  /  will  serve  for  life,  sir"  was  my  ready  and  deliberate  re- 
ply. The  oath  was  accordingly  administered  and  sealed, 
and  thus  at  the  early  age  of  fifteen,  on  he  Gth  of  Decem- 
ber, 1820,  I  became  a  soldier  for  life  in  his  Britannic 
Majesty's  60th  rifle  corps  ! — a  rash  and  foslish  step,  espe- 
cially the  enlisting  for  life,  when  it  might  have  been  ibr  any 
period  not  less  lluvn  .=evcn  years.  But  various  considera- 
tions may  be  perceived  to  account  for  this  rashness,  though 
none  to  justify  it.  Isij  youth,  being  but  a  mere  l)oy,  may 
])C  some  excuse,  as  thoughtlessness  is  a  usual  attendant  uj)- 
on  the  steps  of  boyhood.  Then  I  had  a  lofty  and  mistaken 
idea  of  .a  soldier's  life ;  ixnd  what  probably  influenced  me 
]noi*e  than  all  was,  my  previous  and  obstinate  determination 
never  io  return  home.  My  father's  last  words  still  rang  on 
my  ear,  "  I  care  not  what  becomes  of  you,''  &c.  Whenever 
these  cruel  words  crossed  my  memory,  they  always  hard- 


tTFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


49 


Address  to  the  reader. 


;,  and  beer, 
to  my  en- 
ascertained 
e  I  "was  too 
le  GOth  rifle 
oldier's  life. 
s  in  Amcri- 
her   at  the 
location  of 
[1  opportnni- 
d  and  heard 
intensely  for 

It  conducted 
)ath  of  alle- 
you  serve  ?'* 
eliberate  re- 
and  sealed, 
of  Decem- 
Britannie 
step,  efspe- 
bcen  Ibr  any 
considera- 
ness,  though 
•e  boy,  mav 
tendant  uj)- 
iid  mistaken 
ucnced  mu 
itcrmination 
till  rang  on 
Whenever 
»vays  hard- 


ened  the   rii'ing  sensibilities  of  my  heart,  and   detemiined 
me  to  continue  avvav  from  home  at  all  hazards. 

It  is  hoped  the  reader  will  throw  the  mantle  of  mer- 
cy over  the  j'outhful  follies,  so  candidly  developed  iu  the 
preceding  pages.  Let  him  make  that  use  of  them,  for 
which  their  publication  is  designed.  Like  the  iudustrions 
bee  gatliering  sustenance  from  humble  field-flowers,  he  may 
gain  lessons  of  wisdom  from  the  incidents  of  my  early  boy- 
hood. If  a  parent,  he  may  learn  the  almost  infinite  impor- 
tance  of  right  discipline,  and  of  begining  right  discipline  at 
the  earliest  possible  period.  Lessons  of  obedience  and  re- 
ligion should  meet  tlie  diild  when  he  leaves  the  cradle,  and 
attend  him  all  the  ivay  through  to  manhood.  These  lessons 
should  be  enforced  with  judgment,  with  mild  firmness,  and 
not  with  harshness  ;  it  is  possible  that  mildness  on  the  part 
of  my  dear  father  might  have  saved  me  ;  but,  as  before 
remarkcfl,  the  error  was  not  of  the  heart.  Let  parents 
then  studg  how  to  train  their  littc  ones  for  glory.  If  the 
reader  be  a  youth,  a  discontented  youth,  he  will  here  have 
seen,  and  will  also  hereafter  see,  mirrored  out  before  him, 
the  evils  which  he  may  expect  to  suflTer,  if,  yielding  to  the 
impulse  of  his  mistaken  views,  he  should  dare  to  follow  my 
bad  example,  and  rush,  like  a  foollr^h,  unprotected  lamb, 
from  the  fold  of  his  father's  house.  Hunger  and  thirst, 
pain,  weariness,  and  disgrace,  and  Avretchedness,  and  some- 
times ignominy  and  death,  follow  in  the  train  of  rebellion 
against  parents.  I  et  him  then  beware  and  repent ;  seek 
pardon  for  his  past  misconduct,  of  his  parents,  and  of  his 
Creator,  and,  leaning  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus  Christ,  let  him 
learn  instruction  from  his  sacred  lips.  Then  will  health, 
happiness,  and  prosperity  attend  his  steps  on  earth,  and 
glory,  honor,  immortality,  and  eternal  life,  crown  him  in 
the  world  to  corae.  5* 


r 


00 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


An  appeal  to  the  yotmg. 


In  reply  to  a  reflection  that  may  cross  the  reader's  mind 
at  this  stage  of  the  narrative,  tliat  many  adventures  are 
liere  recorded  for  so  young  a  man,  tlie  wiiter  can  only  say. 
that  he  has  strictly  adhered  to  truth  in  all  his  statements. 


sadcr's  mind 

cntures  are 

an  only  say* 

statements. 


CHAPTER  III. 


'•  I  go,  swort  friends  I     Yet  lliiiik  of  juc 

When  spring's  young  voice  awakes  the  nowers, 
For  we  have  wandered  far  and  tree, 

In  those  bright  hours,  the  violet's  hours." 

I  Ajr  now  about  to  enter  upon  the  history  of  what  was  ji 
new  era  in  my  changeful  life.  Would  that  I  were  better 
able  to  describe  the  scenes,  through  which,  by  God's 
providence,  I  liavc  passed.  My  spirit  rises  to  God  in  hum- 
Ijle  adoration  and  thanksgl\'ing,  for  his  watchfulness  and 
core  over  me  in  all  my  troubles.  That  goodness  constrains 
me  to  exclaim  with  the  shepherd  poet,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  C) 
mv  soul  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits." 

My  party  of  fellow-recruits  remained  in  Coventry  about 
ten  days,  to  permit  the  sergeant  to  raise  the  requisite  num- 
ber to  till  up  the  regiment.  This  time  I  spent  in  wander- 
ing about  witli  my  companions,  and  in  visiting  the  vai'ious 
places  of  amusement  and  recreation.  On  some  occasions,  1 
felt  anxious  to  inform  my  parents  of  my  situation,  but  fear- 
ing that  they  would  take  measures  to  procure  my  dischnrge. 
I  deferred  it  fi-om  day  to  day.  At  last,  by  making  their 
case  my  oirn,  I  wisely  wrote  a  plain  and  candid  account  of 
all  my  wanderings,  and  also  of  my  enlistment,  requesting  an 
immeditito  answer.  Soon  i\fler  writing,  we  received  orders 
to  m.'irch,  and  I  wrote  again,  informing  tliem  of  this  fact. 
and  sttiting  the  place  of  my  destination. 

On  the  morning  of  our  departure  we  were  paraded  by 
the  officers,  and  asked  if  we  had  any  cause  of  complaint. 


H 


',  ! 


52 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITOX. 


Writes  homo. 


March  of  the  recruit!". 


Bad  Indging.s. 


We  answered,  "  No."  After  whicli,  one  of  the  officers  gave 
us  some  words  of  advice  and  caution  ;  a  .step  whicli  was 
highly  necessary,  as  we  were  all  the  subjects  of  a  bursting 
and  ignorant  enthusiasm,  occasioned  by  the  false  ideas  we 
entertained  of  the  new  mode  of  life  we  were  about  to  enter. 
Commanded  by  an  experienced  olUcer,  we  now  commenced 
our  march  for  the  Isle  of  Wight.  This  journey  was  an 
easy  one,  as  we  seldom  marched  over  sixteen  miles  a  day. 

On  our  wa}',  however,  Ave  met  with  some  discouragements 
and  disagreeables,  arising  chiefly  from  the  unkindness  of  the 
landlords,  at  whose  taverns  we  were  "  billeted"  on  the  road. 
To  them  the  sight  of  a  body  of  recruits  was  always  dis- 
agreeable, as  they  were  oblige  to  lodge  them,  whether  will- 
ing or  not,  by  the  sanctions  of  the  law.  Hence  they  fre- 
quently treated  them  with  great  neglect,  insult,  and  incivili- 
ty. We  were  put  into  beds,  in  several  places,  the  mere 
sight  of  which  would  make  a  decent  man  shudder,  and 
cause  his  flesh  to  crawl.  Whenever  we  received  good 
treatment  in  these  houses,  we  returned  it  by  proper  and  re- 
spectful decorum ;  and  when  otherwise,  we  practised  the 
bad  law  of  retaliation,  and  kept  up  a  noise  like  the  hooting 
of  owls.  Careless  alike  of  threat  or  importunity,  we  per- 
severed in  our  disturbances,  keeping  our  ungracious  hosts 
awake,  until  the  dawn  of  day  called  us  to  depart. 

At  one  place,  when  the  hour  of  retirement  arrived,  we 
w^ere  required  to  follow  the  landlord.  This  command  we 
cheerfully  obeyed,  hoping,  from  the  neat  appearance  of  the 
place,  to  find  comfortable  beds  and  lodgings.  But  the  con- 
tinued progression  of  our  march  blasted  our  hopes.  Our 
way  was  through  the  back  yard  towards  the  stables.  This 
made  us  look  at  each  other,  and  ask,  inquiringly,  if  we 
were  to  be  stabled  lilce  horses.     After  conducting  us  through 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTOX. 


53 


idgings. 

)fficers  gave 
wliicli  was 
f  a  bursting 
se  ideas  \vc 
out  to  enter, 
commenced 
ney  was  an 
liles  a  day. 
ouragements 
idness  of  the 
on  the  road, 
always  dis- 
vhether  will- 
ice   they  frc- 
,  and  incivili- 
?.es,  the  mere 
shudder,  and 
ceived   good 
■oper  and  re- 
)ractised  the 
}  the  hooting 
lity,  we  per- 
•acious  hosts 
•t. 
arrived,  we 
ommand  we 
ranc^  of  the 
Jut  the  con- 
opes.     Our 
ibles.     This 
ingly,  if  we 
us  through 


Noisy  lo(I);ors, 


A  l)ed-rooni  described. 


various  windings,  he  brought  us  to  an  upper  loft,  connected 
with  some  out-houses,  where  he  left  us  with  tlic  following 
compliment,  "  Gentlemen,  take  which  bed  you  pletise." 

Sorrowful  sight  I  To  be  sure  we  had  a  light,  but  it  on- 
ly served  to  mai<e  known  the  horrors  of  our  Avorse  than 
Newgate  cell.  As  the  moon  hid  beneath  scowling  vapors, 
only  serves  to  give  the  traveler  a  glimpse  of  the  horrors  of 
his  mountain  path,  so  our  light  served  only  to  increase  our 
disgust,  and  to  make  known  the  character  of  those  who  had 
visited  this  filthy  spot  before  us.  The  room  was  large  and 
dirty,  containing  a  number  of  heaps,  which,  from  their  ap- 
pearance, one  would  hardly  suppose  to  be  beds.  Beds, 
liowever,  they  were,  of  the  coarsest  materials,  and  the  very 
antipodes  of  clean.  The  walls  were  black  with  smoke,  hav- 
ing been  smoked  with  the  flare  of  candles,  and  covered 
with  the  most  ghastly  images,  so  abhorrent  that  they  remind- 
ed me  of  the  chambers  of  the  pit.  The  place  was  evidently 
better  fitted  for  the  abode  of  beasts,  and  satyrs,  than  of  ra- 
tional men.  Had  I  been  alone,  I  should  have  felt  ashamed ; 
as  it  was,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  the  d-^n  of  some  wretched 
miscreant.  From  the  necessity  of  the  case  we  submitted, 
and  slept  as  best  we  could  ;  and  in  tlie  morning,  we  heaped 
our  beds  and  bedding  into  one  filthy  ]n]Q,  and  left  at  an 
early  hour.  Onr  conduct  fit  these  vile  places  was  not 
marked  with  wl.-doni;  it  only  served  to  increase  the  preju- 
dice of  the  innkeepers  against  pei-sons  of  our  class.  Pa- 
tient, peaceable  submission  would  have  been  infinitely  bet- 
ter, and  more  in  conformity  with  true  philosophy  and  reli- 
gion. But  we  were  neither  philosophers  nor  Christians, 
|Which,  though  it  does  not  justify,  explains  our  conduct. 

We  now  prosecuted  our  march  through  the  far  famed 
[ciiy  of  Oxford,  so  celebrated  throughout  the  world  of  letters 


n 


i 


t'li 


54 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


Historical  anecdote  of  Caunte. 


Flattery  reproved. 


for  its  university,  and  in  the  religious  world  as  the  place 
where  many  noble  martyrs,  amid  the  scorching  flame,  tri- 
umphantly "  gave  up  the  ghost."  On  the  tenth  day  of  our 
march  we  reached  Southampton,  a  considerable  town,  de- 
riving its  importance  from  its  contiguity  to  the  sea.  It  was 
here  the  just  reproof  of  Caunte  the  Great  to  his  sycophantic 
courtiers,  is  said  to  have  been  administered.  As  many  of 
the  readers  of  this  book  may  never  have  seen  an  account  of 
this  interesting  occurrence,  I  will  relate  it  for  their  amuse- 
ment and  instruction.  > 

"  As  Caunte  the  Great,  king  of  England,  was  walking  on 
the  sea-shore  at  Southampton,  accompanied  by  his  courtiers, 
who  offered  him  the  grossest  flattery,  comparing  him  to  the 
greatest  heroes  of  antiquity,  and  asserting  that  his  pov/er 
was  more  than  human,  he  ordered  a  chair  to  be  placed  on 
the  beach,  while  the  tide  was  coming  in.  Sitting  down 
with  a  majestic  air,  he  thus  addressed  himself  to  the  sea : — 
'  Thou  sea,  that  art  a  part  of  my  dominions,  the  land  where- 
on I  sit  is  mine  ; — no  one  ever  broke  my  commands  with 
impunity  ; — I  therefore  charge  lliee  to  come  no  farther  upon 
my  lands,  and  not  presume  to  wet  either  my  feet  or  my 
robe,  who  am  still  thy  sovereign  !"  But  the  sea  rolled  on  as 
before,  and,  without  ariy  respect,  not  only  Avet  the  skirts  of 
his  robe,  but  likewise  splashed  his  thighs  ;  on  which  he  rose 
up  suddenly,  and  addressing  himself  to  his  attendants  up- 
braided them  for  their  ridiculous  flattery,  and  very  judi- 
ciously expatiated  on  the  narrow  and  limited  power  of  the 
greatest  monarch  on  earth."  "  Flatterers  who  praise  great 
men  for  their  imaginary  merit,  lull  them  to  sleep  to  their 
real  miseries."    Well  does  the  poet  say  of  flattery — 

"  Alas  I  thy  sweet,  perfidious  voice  bretraya 
His  wantoii  ears  ;  with  thv  siren  baits. 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


65 


oved. 

the  place 
flame,  tri- 
lay  of  our 

town,  de- 
i.  It  was 
^cophantic 
i  many  of 
account  of 
eir  amuse- 

valking  on 

3  courtiers, 

him  to  the 

his  pov/er 

placed  on 

ting  down 

the  sea : — 

,nd  where- 

nds  with 

ther  upon 

eet  or  my 

led  on  as 

skirts  of 

I  lie  rose 

ants  up- 

cry  judi- 

er  of  the 

aise  great 

to  their 


Arrivtl  nt  Newport. 


Entrr!<  a  school  of  niilitury  instrnction. 


Thou  wrapp'st  his  eyes  in  mist,  then  boldly  lays 

Thy  lethal  gins  with  crystal  gates. 

Thou  lockest  every  sense  with  thy  false  keys, 

All  willing  prisoners  to  thy  close  deceits: 

His  ear,  most  nimble  where  it  deaf  should  be, 

His  eye  most  blind,  where  most  it  ought  to  see  ; 

And  when  his  heart's  most  bound,  then  thinks  himself  most  free.'* 

From  Southampton,  we  were  conveyed  by  water  to 
Cowcs  in  tlie  Ise  of  Wight,  and  from  thence  were  marched 
to  the  garrison  at  Newport,  where  we  arrived  late  in  the 
evening.  The  next  day  we  were  inspected  by  a  board  of 
officers,  and  consigned  to  our  respective  detachments,  to  be 
instructed  in  the  discipline  and  duties  of  our  new  profession. 
Here,  I  soon  learned  that  a  soldier's  life  was  not  so  easy 
and  pleasant  as  I  had  vainly  dreamed.  T^il  and  severe 
duties  constantly  attend  his  steps,  and  the  pi  a  of  youth  or 
inexperience  is  never  accepted  in  lieu  of  duty.  For  the 
information  of  the  reader,  I  shall,  in  detail  of  my  experi- 
ence, endeavor  to  give  as  correct  an  idea  as  possible,  of  a 
British  soldier's  life. 

My  first  experience  was  in  the  initiatory  school,  where  I 
was  taught  the  first  principles  of  the  military  art ;  and  not- 
withstanding my  ungracefulness  and  awkwardness  at  first,  I 
was  soon  pronounced  "  fit  for  duty."  These  schools  for  mil- 
itary instruction  are  usually  under  the  care  of  men  of  the 
most  tyrannical  disposition,  whose  unmerciful  severity  and 
haughty  demeanor  beget  a  decided  hostility  in  the  breasts 
of  their  defenceless  scholars.  Thus  it  was  with  those  who 
instructed  the  party  with  which  I  Avas  connected.  The 
least  deviation  from  the  perfection  of  the  evolution  we 
were  required  to  perform;  was  punished  by  these  myrmidons 
of  brief  authority,  with   the  utmost  severity ;    sometimes, 


I: 


:M 


t^^ 


66 


LIFE    OP   AViLLlAM   B.   LlGIlTON. 


Short  allowance  of  food. 


Its  effect  on  morals. 


The  theft. 


with  even  brutal  ferocity ;  often,  in  a  manner  totally  repug- 
nant to  the  prop'jr  disciphne  of  the  army,  which  though 
severe  in  itself,  does  not  countenance  tyranny  on  the  part 
of  subalterns.  Had  their  treatment  of  tlie  recruits  been 
fully  and  fairly  known  to  their  superiors,  they  would  un- 
doubtedly have  been  degraded  to  the  ranks.  Our  lips, 
however,  were  bound  by  fear  ;  Ave  dared  not  complain,  and 
therefore  unwillingly  submitted  to  their  tyranny. 

But  our  troubles  did  not  ciul  here.  To  unkind  treat- 
ment was  to  be  added  a  partial  dcprivatior-  )f  many  of  the 
common  necessaries  of  comfortable  life.  Our  daily  ration 
was  but  one  pound  of  bread,  one  pound  of  meat,  a  pint  of 
soup,  a  pint  of  tea,  and  three  or  four  potatoes — an  allow-' 
ance,  had  it  all  been  of  good  quality,  barely  sufficient  to  sus- 
tain nature.  But  it  was  not.  Our  bread  \/as  of  the 
coarsest  and  poorest  flour ;  so  dark,  that  it  was  nicknamed 
"  brown  Tommy,"  and  its  adhesive  properties  were  such, 
that  if  a  piece  were  thrown  against  the  wall,  there  it  would 
remain.  Nor  was  the  measure  at  all  just ;  it  was  dealt  out 
as  choicely  as  if  it  had  been  gold ;  so  that  between  short 
weight  and  measure,  and  bad  (juality,  we  were  but  poorly 
off  for  the  comforts  of  life. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  scanty  allowance,  some  of  the 
new  recruits  became  addicted  to  stealing ;  others,  more  re- 
gardful of  duty  to  God  and  man,  suffered  the  privations  of 
partial  hunger.  So  great  was  our  distress,  that  every  arti- 
cle of  clothing  that  could  be  dispensed  with,  was  sold  for 
food,  and  much  anxiety  was  manifested  in  regard  to  the  fu- 
ture ;  some  api)lied  to  their  parents  for  money,  and  some 
for  means  to  obtain  their  discharge,  which  many  of  them 
obtained. 

One  very  i)ainful  event  occurred  during  our  stay  at  New- 


i! 


LIFE   OF    WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOK. 


67 


theft. 

ally  repug- 
ieh  though 
a  the  part 
bruits  been 
would  uii- 
Our  lipy, 
nplain,  and 

kind  treat- 

lany  of  the 

daily  ration 

it,  a  pint  of 

—an  allow-' 

dent  to  sus- 

'v/as   of  the 

nicknamed 

were  such, 

re  it  would 

as  dealt  out 

ween  short 

but  poorly 

forae  of  the 
:,  more  re- 
•ivtitions  of 
every  arti- 
is  sold  for 
I  to  the  fu- 
and  some 
iy  of  them 

^y  at  New- 


The  sentence.         The  culprit's  wicked  bond. 


Hi»  punishment. 


port.  A  very  respectable  young  married  man,  of  apparent- 
ly sober  habits,  overwhelmed  with  the  wretchedness  of  his 
situation^  wrote  home  earnestly  entreating  his  parents  to 
give  him  the  means  of  procuring  his  discharge.  They 
either  could  not  or  would  not  grant  him  his  wish ;  and  in 
that  extremity  he  was  led  to  adopt  a  most  wicked  and  un- 
justifiable measure.  He  lodged  in  the  same  room  with  the 
paymaster-sergeant,  from  whom  he  contrived  to  steal  twenty 
pounds,  the  sum  required  for  his  discharge,  which  he  en- 
closed in  a  letter,  and  directed  to  his  father.  His  crime, 
however,  was  soon  discovered  ;  for  the  post-master  at  the 
office  where  he  deposited  the  letter,  feeling  somewhat  sus- 
picious on  seeing  a  letter  with  money  from  a  soldier,  made 
inquiries  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  theft,  and  the 
consequent  detection  of  the  offender.  He  was  imprisoned, 
and  soon  after  tried  by  a  court  martial,  and  sentenced  to  the 
cruel  and  ignominious  punishment  of  the  lash  ;  he  was  to 
receive  three  hundred  lashes  / 

During  his  confinement,  driven  to  desperation  by  his  situ- 
ation, and  evidently  while  deprived  of  the  right  use  of  his 
reason,  he  wrote  an  instrument  in  his  own  blood,  in  which 
he  swore  unhallowed  allegiance  and  perpetual  confederacy 
with  the  prince  of  darkness,  provided  he  should  be  enabled 
to  escape  his  doom,  and  evade  the  infliction  of  his  cruel 
sentence.  This  wicked  document  was  discovered,  and 
shown  to  the  adjutant,  who,  after  pondering  a  moment  over 
its  mysterious  contents,  laconically,  but  unfeelingly  observed, 

"  If  the  devil  is  in  him  we  will  whip  him  out," — a  remark, 
by  the  way,  characteristic  of  officers  of  the  army  in  gene- 
tal. 

On  the  morning  of  the  infliction  of  his  sentence,  about 

two  thousand  troops  were  marched  to  the  fatal  spot,  and 

6 


58 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


II 


jf 


!  :i ' 


A  rcstrictiun. 


formed  into  a  hollow  square  of  four  men  in  depth.  Then 
CAme  the  trembling  culprit,  who  was  stripped  naked  to  the 
waist,  and  tied  to  a  triangle,  erected  for  the  occasion. 
When  the  order  to  commence  punishment  was  given,  the 
strong  sympathy  of  the  troojjs  expre^'Sed  its(!lf  in  one  loud 
and  universal  groan.  Every  blow,  while  it  scarred  the  back 
of  the  criminal,  wounded  every  soldier's  heart,  and  many 
turned  aside  their  heads  from  beholding  the  cruel  and  sick- 
ening sight.  The  bleeding  criminal  cried  in  loud  and 
piercing  accents  for  pardon,  until  the  oft-repeated  blow 
created  a  deathish  numbness  of  flesh,  and  he  became  insen- 
sible to  pain  !  At  last,  he  fainted  from  loss  of  blood,  which 
trickled  in  streams  from  his  many  wounds,  and  was  con- 
veyed from  the  brutal  scene  to  the  hospital. 

This  painful  circumstance  produced  many  alanning  fears 
in  my  mind.  I  trembled,  lest,  by  some  unfortunate  act,  I 
should  expose  myself  to  a  similar  punishment.  Sometimes 
I  thought  of  begging  my  father  to  procure  my  discharge  ; 
but  the  remembrance  of  my  ingratitude  checked  me.  So  I 
determined  to  bear  my  burdens  in  silence,  consoling  myself 
with  the  hope  of  better  days,  when  I  should  join  my  regi- 
ment in  Canada.  Thus  do  men  console  themselves  under 
present  ills,  by  looking  to  a  brighter  day  beyond. 

There  was  another  circumstance  which  stood  in  the  way 
of  our  enjoyment.  We  were  not  permitted,  on  any  account, 
to  go  beyond  the  sound  of  the  drum.  One  mile  in  circum- 
ference was  the  limit  of  the  territory  we  were  allowed  to 
range ;  nor  could  we  travel  beyond  this  limit,  without  expo- 
sing ourselves  to  the  treatment  of  deserters  ;  which  was  the 
infliction  of  seven  hundred  lashes,  or  imprisonment  with 
transportation  for  life.  AVe  had  but  one  specimen  of  this 
species  of  punishment,  and  numbers  were  then  in  close  con- 


[i 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.   LIQHTON. 


59 


An  Hilvonture  at  nii  old  cnxtle. 


finement,  awaiting  their  fate  with  an  anxiety  almost  as 
painful  as  the  punishment.  But  notwithstanding  all  these 
warnings,  I  was  once  nearly  involved  in  a  similar  disaster. 

One  beautiful  afternoon,  myself  and  a  few  companions 
were  whiling  away  a  leisure  hour  by  a  walk  through  the 
streets  of  Newport,  when  the  sight  of  an  ancient  castle  pro- 
duced a  desire  to  visit  its  antiquated  walls,  which,  from 
report,  we  understood  to  be  the  place  where  the  French 
prisoners  had  been  confined  during  the  last  war  with  that 
nation.  Our  anxiety  to  visit  this  spot  overcame  our  fears 
of  punishment ;  so,  regardless  of  military  restrictions,  we 
pursued  our  way  towards  it,  and  arrived  there  without  inter- 
ruption ;  being  then  four  miles  from  the  garrison  and  three 
beyond  our  prescribed  bounds.  This  fact  prevented  much 
enjoyment,  as  we  were  haunted  by  fear  of  consequences. 
Yet  we  surveyed  the  beautiful  scenery  without,  and  then 
attempted  to  gain  admittance  to  the  interior,  as  we  had 
heard  the  fame  of  its  magnificent  architecture.  We  entered 
a  narrow  passage,  and  finding  a  first  gate  open,  passed  to  a 
second,  which  was  in  a  stufK;ndous  arch,  and  of  no  ordinary 
size  or  workmanship.  To  open  this,  our  united  efforts 
availed  nothing.  Peeping  through  the  crevices  made  in 
the  arch  by  the  mutilating  finger  of  time,  we  could  disco v- 
OT  nothing  but  doors  equally  formidable  with  the  one  that 
now  opposed  our  progress.  Unable  to  admit  ourselves,  we 
tried  to  arouse  the  inmates,  first  by  gently  knocking,  and 
then  by  pulling  lustily  upon  a  rope,  to  which  was  attached  a 
large  door  bell.  Still  no  response  met  our  calls.  Grow- 
ing impatient,  especially  as  our  time  was  rapidly  expiring, 
we  joined  in  giving  one  unanimous  call  for  admission. 
Each  soldier  took  a  stone,  and  struck  the  door  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  arm  ;  this,  together  with  the  ringing  of  the 


60 


LIFR    OF    WILLIAM    B.   LIOHTON. 


;il*'. 


A  narrow  csca[)o  frnni  danfter.        Drumming  out.         The  r«gu(>>  mnrch. 


ii 


bell,  reverberated  with  a  most  astounding  noise  along  the 
vaulted  roofs  of  the  bUiiding,  until  its  echo  became  deafeo* 
ing  and  terrific. 

Alarmed  at  our  own  noise,  and  fearing  that  the  inmates 
would  become  incensed  against  us  for  our  boyish  and  un- 
seemly conduct,  we  hastily  retired  without  the  outer  door, 
where  we  met  a  grave,  elderly  gentlemen,  who  justly  and 
severely  reprimanded  us,  and  threatened  to  send  for  i* 
picket  guard  to  arrest  us.  It  was  well  for  us  we  liad 
reached  the  outside  gate ;  else^  by  merely  closing  it,  we 
should  have  been  his  prisoners,  and  dearly  should  we  have 
paid  for  our  idle  adventure.  Fearing  that  he  had  already 
sent  for  a  guard,  we  quickened  our  pace,  and  soon  reached 
our  prescribed  limits  in  safety.  How  emblematic  is  this 
little  fact  of  the  folly  of  men  !  For  so  trivial  a  pleasure  as 
is  here  described,  we  rashly  exposed  ourselves  to  the  most 
degrading  of  human  punishments.  Alas !  how  many,  for 
advantages  equally  trivial,  expose  their  precious  souls  to  an 
everlasting  hell !     Reader,  dost  thou  ? 

Shortly  after  this,  we  w^ere  Uhlled  to  witness  another 
species  of  military  punishment,  which  though  \'f;vy  mortify- 
ing to  the  'uiferer,  is  less  tinged  with  barbarity.  It  is 
sometimes  called  "  drumming  out."  The  culprit  was  placed 
l»etween  the  ranks,  and  I'ollowed  by  the  musicians,  playing 
the  "  rogue's  march.*'  Ii3  was  thus  conducted  to  the  con- 
fines of  the  garrison,  and  lefl^o  pursue  his  own  course :  be- 
ing now  freed  from  the  obligations  of  his  oath,  and  no 
longer  a  military  subject.  This  curious  process  is  generally 
inflicted  for  petty  thefts  and  incorrigible  profligacy.  Many 
of  our  number,  however,  would  gladly  have  exchanged 
situations  with  him  ;  seeing  it  freed  him  from  the  tyrannies 
to  which,  in  common,  with  ourselves,,  he  had  been  exposed^. 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITON. 


61 


A  letter  from  homo. 


To  me,  it  would  have  been  the  greatest  favor  they  could 
have  conferred.  But  alas !  I  was  only  permitted  to  trace 
in  imagination  the  road  that  led  to  my  father's  house,  while 
the  sad  reality  of  my  situation  remained  a  dagger  in  my 
heart.  O  miserable  prospect ! — a  perpetuity  of  bondage, 
to  cease  only  with  life's  latest  breath  ;  a  barrier  insurmounta- 
ble between  me  and  the  social  comforts  of  life.  But  if  my  bed 
was  thorny,  I  had  made  it  so,  and  therefore  had  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  submit  in  all  patience. 

About  this  time  I  received  a  reply  from  my  father,  to 
the  letters  sent,  as  the  reader  will  remember,  fW>m  Coven- 
try.   The  following  is  a  copy : — 

"  Framfton,  January  l$t,  1821. 
"  Dear  Son,  .  . . 

**  I  have  just  received,  by  one  post,  both  your  letters 
sent  from  Coventry ;  and  while  I  approve  of  your  conduct 
in  writing  me  concerning  your  situation,,  T  can  but  lament 
your  folly  in  leaving  your  place,  of  which  I  knew  nothing 
until  I  received  your  letter,  and  your  extreme  rashness  tn 
entering  upon  a  career  so  humiliating  as  a  soldier's  life — a 
life  attended  with  intolerable  hardships,  and  what  is  worse, 
with  every  species  of  profanity,  lewdness,  and  wickedness. 
I  hope  you  will  remember  to  keep  yourself  clear  from 
these  pernicious  practices.  You  know,  by  this  time, 
they  are  a  swearing  set ;  be  sure  you  never  join  them  in 
this  respect.  *  Swear  not  at  all.*  You  arc  now  beyond  the 
reach  of  parental  instruction,  or  at  least  protection ;  and 
your  situation,  together  with  the  distance  which  does  and 
will  separate  us,  will  undoubtedly  create  in  future  very  se- 
rious anxiety  for  your  welfare ;  and  I  hope  your  duty  as  a 

child,  on  this  point,  will  be  respectfully  regarded.    I  would 

6* 


62 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.   ttOHTOlT^ 


u'l 


A  Ht  of  sickness. 


The  hospital. 


Restoration  to  hnalth. 


sincerely  advise  you  to  be  good  and  dutiful  to  your  superiors, 
submissive  to  all  your  officers,  and  respectful  in  your  de- 
portment }  so  that  I  may  hear  from,  and  see  you  again 
in  peace. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"WiLLLIAM    LiGHTON," 


This  letter  'paved  the  way  for  a  regular  correspondence, 
while  it  removed  many  fears  from  my  muid,  and  gave  me 
hopes  of  better  days. 

Towards  the  spring  of  the  year  I  had  a  slight  fit  of  sick- 
ness, which  originated  in  a  cold  taken  one  very  wet  day, 
while  upon  duty.  Although  my  symptoms  were  not  very 
alarming,  yet  I  was  conducted  to  the  hospital,  examined, 
and  detained  to  undergo  a  course  of  medicine.  While  in 
this  place,  which  was  twenty-one  days,  I  underwent  more 
pain  than  I  had  ever  before  experienced.  I  was  deprived 
of  my  usual  allowance  of  food,  and  received,  instead,  only 
about  a  pint  of  gmel  or  rice  per  diem,  with  but  very  little 
of  any  other  food.  Towards  the  close  of  my  sickness,  my 
food  was  more  substantial  in  kind,  though  much  too  small  in 
quantity.  While  in  this  situation,  I  was  visited  by  a  com- 
rade, who,  after  a  few  words  of  kind  inquiry  concerning 
my  health,  gave  me  a  letter,  which  on  opening,  I  fo!md  to 
be  from  my  father,  and  contained  a  small  sum  of  money. 
This  present  came  most  opportunely,  as  it  gave  me  the 
means  of  obtaining  a  f«^.w  comforts  during  the  period  of  my 
convalescence. 

My  health  having  recovered,  I  returned  to  my  usurl  du- 
ties in  the  barracks ;  looking  with  strong  expectancy  for 
our  orders  to  sail  for  head  quarters  in  America.  These 
soon   after  arrived,  for  ona  detachment  to  hold  itself  in 


l*»'i(ii 


LifB   OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIOHTON. 


65 


A  cruel  order. 


Misery  of  a  soldier's  wile. 


readiness  to  sail  for  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  to  join  the  second 
battalion  of  the  corps,  stationed  at  that  place.     Previous  to 
the  execution  of  this  order,  we  were  called  upon  to  witness 
some  of  the  most  distressing  and  heart-rending  scenes  im-* 
aginable. 

Many  of  the  new  recruits  were  married  men,  whose  mis- 
fortunes, occasioned  by  the  prevalence  of  distress  among 
the  lower  class,  had  induced  them  to  enlist,  and  whose 
faithful  companions  had  voluntarily  followed  them  ;  choosing 
to  endure  the  denials  and  poverty  incident  to  military  life, 
rather  than  indefinite  separation  from  their  beloved  hus- 
bands. Shortly  before  the  time  of  sailing,  the  officers  cruel- 
ly ordered  all  tJ  women,  above  a  limited  and  specified 
number,  to  return  to  their  homes. 

This  cruel  command  was  rigorously  enforced.  Young, 
virtuous,  and  innocent  women  were  torn  from  the  eager 
embraces  of  devoted  husbands,  amid  sobs  and  tears.  Even 
now  I  hear  the  shrill  scream  of  the  women,  as,  with  the 
keenest  agony  of  heart,  they  took  their  long,  last,  affecting 
farewell.  How  wildly  +he  father  gazed,  that  sad  day,  on 
his  blooming  but  unc3n?cious  babes,  whom  he  loved  as  a 
second  self !  But  he  ^  'as  forced  to  leave  them,  the  victims 
of  griping  poverty.  His  wife  was  poor ;  her  family,  too, 
was  poor,  and  he  left  them  to  certain  destitution.  Fathers 
felt  this  on  that  parting  day,  and  the  soldier  melted  into 
the  marij  nay,  almost  into  the  soft-hearted  woman.  The 
poor  broken-hearted  mother  was  in  a  worse  condition. 
She  was  forced  from  her  husband  ;  and  in  losing  him,  she 
lost  her  all,  her  only  stay  in  this  life. 

How  deplorably  wretched  the  condition  of  such  a  woman ! 
Ever  after,  the  tliought  of  joys  departed  must  militate 
against  her  peace.     She  retains  a  faint  emblem  of  the  lather 


«ii 


i  I! 


ii'ii 


'!l  111; 


1"!  - 

I 


14 


LlPR    OF   WlLLlAM   B.   LIGHTON". 


Reason  for  the  misery  of  the  English  poor. 


in  her  child,  which  only  serves  to  remind  her  that  he  is 
gone  forever.     This  creates  a  lasting  grief, 


" — —  and  ends 

In  misery  hopeless  and  profound." 

At  last,  she  hears  that  her  protector  has  gone  the  way  of 
all  the  earth,  leaving  her  and  her  child  destitute  of  all 
means  of  support — of  every  thing  calculated  to  sweeten  the 
cup  of  life.  Thus  left  to  cope  with  the  cold  world  alone, 
these  little  ones  become  common  beggars,  and  often  end 
their  lives  upon  the  gallows.  Such  is  the  fate  of  many  in 
England,  famed  as  she  is  for  her  benevolence  and  plenty. 
Does  the  reader  ask  the  cause  ?  It  may  be  found  in  the 
wrong  administration  of  public  affairs  by  a  bloated  and 
titled  aristocracy.  These  study  their  own  wealth,  while 
the  people  are  left  to  grope  along  the  tliornj  and  painful 
path  of  poverty.  This  it  was  that  brought  the  men  in  our 
company  to  enlist :  their  separation  and  the  destitution  of 
their  families  were  mere  consequences  of  their  situation 
after  becoming  soldiers.  O  England,  the  clouds  are  gather- 
mg  blackness  around  thee  !  Thy  former  lorightness  is  tar- 
nished with  many  a  spot,  and  niethinks  thy  fate  contains 
afllictions,  worse  than  thy  martyrdoms.  May  the  Lord  de- 
fend thy  palaces  with  princes,  and  thy  courts  with  noble- 
men, whose  characters  shall  be  unblemished  ! — Hoping  the 
reader  will  pardon  thii-  digression,  I  will  proceed  to  offer  a 
few  more  remarks  on  the  subject  of  the  separation  of  our 
soldiers  from  their  wives. 

The  reader  may  have  asked  the  question,  if  there  was  no 
prospect  of  a  reunion  for  theso  separated  ones.  Evidently 
but  little,  unless  they  could  find  the  means  of  procuring  a 
discharge :  except,  indeed,  the  remote  one  of  the  return  of 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTOK. 


65 


kt  he  is 


An  affecting:  incident. 


Murch  of  ihc  detaclimcnt  to  the  sea  Hide. 


way  of 
e  of  all 
leten  the 
d  alone, 
[ten  end 
many  in 
I  plenty, 
id  in  the 
ted  and 
[h,  while 
I  painful 
n  in  our 
tution  of 
[situation 
gather- 
is  tar- 
contains 
(Ord  de- 
noble- 
jing  the 
offer  a 
of  our 

was  no 
^idently 
iring  a 
kurn  of 


« 


the  regiment ;  but  it  is  weH  known,  that  a  regiment,  re- 
turning from  a  foreign  station,  is  seldom  composed  of  the 
same  men,  as  when  it  leaves  the  shores  of  home.  Death 
makes  large  drafts  upon  them,  and  many  a  brave  man 
leaves  his  bones  to  whiten  on  a  foreign  soil. 

Some  of  the  soldiers,  determined  not  to  be  separated,  cut 
und  maimed  themselves,  so  as  to  be  unfit  for  service.  One 
instance,  in  particular,  is  impressed  upon  my  memory.  A 
young  man,  accompanying  his  wife  to  Cowes,  with  the 
guard  that  was  charged  with  sending  home  the  women, 
iisked  leave  to  step  aside,  which  was  granted.  Secreting 
himself,  for  a  moment,  beneath  an  arch,  he  resolutely  cut 
off  his  thumb  with  a  razor.  Throwing  the  detached  mem- 
ber into  a  field,  he  rejoined  the  rest  of  the  company.  His 
situation  was  discovered  by  an  officer;  he  was  arrested, 
and  sc^n  after,  being  tried  by  a  court  martial,  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  be  2i  pioneer  for  life.  Thu.=!,  after  so  severe  a  loss, 
he  still  had  to  endure  the  greater  pang  of  separation.  What 
will  that  God  say  to  the  actors  in  these  scenes,  whose 
law  thunders,  "What,  therefore,  God  hath  joined  together, 
let  not  man  put  asunder  ?"  .      i^ ,     . 

At  last,  the  day  came  for  our  embarkation.  We  hailed  it 
with  delight,  hoping  that  a  change  in  circumstances  would 
produce  !i  alleviation  in  condition — that  better  and  brighter 
days  aw^aited  us.  Early  on  the  morning  of  our  departure, 
we  took  an  affectionate  farewell  of  the  aosociates  we  were 
to  leave  behind.  Much  good  feeling  was  manifested,  and 
many  kind  wishes  interchanged  between  us.  Each  seemed 
to  hope  that  the  other  miglit  prosper  in  the  different  parta 
of  the  world  we  were  to  remove  to  ;  it  was  truly  an  inter- 
esting moment  of  our  lives. 

The  beating  of  drums  called  us  from  the  last  sad  ritea 


i1«|i!(p»  •fii'tm'^'mmf/i.jiijgii'i^wvm'^mwmKvmiiiJi.im  jihuhj 


66 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


The  embMrkation. 


W      ! 


of  the  affections,  to  the  sterner  duties  of  the  march.  So, 
securing  our  knapsacks,  which  were  well  filled  with  apparel 
Buited  to  the  climate,  we  hurried  to  the  parade-ground  ;  af- 
ter due  inspection,  the  command  to  march  was  given,  and 
we  proceeded  towards  Cowes,  accompanied  part  way  by  a 
band  of  martial  music,  playing  its  most  lively  airs.  This 
was  a  prrt  of  the  philosophy  of  military  tactics  ;  knowing 
how  natural  it  is  for  men  to  feel  sad  on  leaving  their  coun- 
try for  rn  unknown  residence,  our  officers  chose  this  method 
to  excite  the  animal  of  our  nature  to  high  and  joyous  feel- 
ing. But  music,  though  it  may  soothe  the  feelings,  cannot 
cure  heart  wounds,  nor  heal  the  gangrene  of  a  festered  spir- 
it ;  home  has  too  strong  a  charm  to  be  broken  by  the  roll 
of  drums. 

"While  waiting  on  the  shore  for  the  boats  to  convey  us  to 
the  ship,  I  employed  my  time  in  reviewing  the  diversified 
and  chequered  past — in  reflecting  on  the  troubles  I  had  ex- 
perienced since  I  left  home.  Such  were  my  emotions, 
that  I  would  fain  have  kissed  the  soil  on  which  I  stood ; 
and  when  the  boat  arrived,  I  felt  reluctant  to  leave  the 
riever-forg,:tten  shores  of  old  Albion.  As  1  stept  heavily 
into  the  boat,  I  offered  a  silent  prayer  for  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  upon  myself  and  friends. 

After  arriving  on  board,  we  were  all  sent  below  and  hatch- 
ed down,  to  prevent  escape  or  confusion.  The  next  day, 
having  a  fair  wind,  we  weighed  anchor  and  set  sail,  May 
22d,  1821,  and  soon  left  far  behind  us  the  beauteous  and 
lovely  scenes  which  every  where  abound  in  that  rock-bound 
isle.  Soon  it  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  shapeless  mass 
of  matter,  intereslino;  onlv  from  the  consideration  that  it 
was  our  native  land. 


ti.  So, 
[ipparel 
id;  af- 
en,  and 
<y  by  a 
This 
nowing 
r  coun- 
method 
us  feel- 
cannot 
ed  spir- 
he  roll 

jy  us  to 
ersified 
lad  ex- 
aotions, 

stood; 
ve   the 

leavily 
sing  of 

hatch- 
xt  day, 
,  May 
ug  and 
bound 
s  mass 
hat   it 


X- 


^ 


5^ 


^? 


^. 


_^ 


I  )l 

f 


i| 
It 

•I 


kJ^- 


IIFE   OF   WILIIAM  B.   LIGHTOK. 


«7 


An  ndieu  to  home. 


'i  he  s.iiu.er's  Hdieu, 


O  England  my  home,  thy  scenes  I  love  well  • 
Home,  where  contentment  and  happiness  dwell  •' 
Home   where  my  infantile  weakness  was  nursed! 
The  place  where  my  paren.s  saluted  me  first. 
Though  thy  hills  may  be  hid  beyond  .h.  ...eat  deen 
And  the  A.lnntic  billows  between  us  do  ^v";'' 
Thou  rt  the  home  of  my  fathers,  the  place  of  my  birth. 
And  more  precious  to  me  than  the  wealth  of  the  earth 

Home     .here's  a  magical  spell  in  thy  name  ; 
Wherever  I  wander,  thy  scenes  I  retain  • 
O.  ne'er  may  the  bliss  that  twines  round  'thee  depart  • 
Thou  home  of  my  fathers,  thou  joy  of  my  heart  •        ' 
Farewe    to  the  shores  of  my  dear  native  home. " 
^rewell.for  I  leave-perhaps  ne'er  to  return. 
Dear  parents,  adieu !  ye  friends  I  love  well 
I  Bighingly  bid  you  a  painful  farewell ! 


1|t 

■;■« 


§ 


J 


u 


;    < 


\m 


t 


tCHAPTER  IV. 

"  Where  are  sweet  eyes  of  love 
Watching  for  me  ? 
Where,  o'er  the  cabin  roof, 

Waves  the  green  tree  ? 
Where  speaks  the  vesper  chime 
Still  of  a  holy  time  ? 
Far  o'er  the  sea." 

Hemans. 

The  wind  continued  in  our  favor ;  and,  spreading  every 
Bail  to  catch  the  favoring  breeze,  we  made  rapid  progress. 
This  lighted  up  every  countenance,  filled  every  heart  with 
gladness,  and  tended  to  gradually  dissipate  the  melancholy 
which  separation  from  our  country  had  so  generally  occa- 
sioned. The  buoyancy  of  our  spirits  returned,  and  we 
were  sportive  as  the  young  dolphins  that  played  in  the 
curling  wave  ;  bright  day-dreams  of  a  prosperous  voyage, 
and  pleasant  results  in  the  New  World,  filled  our  thoughtti, 
and  excited  our  highly-wrought  imaginations. 

But  man  is  inconsiderate :  in  the  hour  of  prosperity,  he 
forgets  that  dangers  leap  into  the  footprints  of  safety  ;  that 
his  circumstances  are  changeable  as  the  fickle  wind ;  and 
that  there  is  a  superior  Being  who  rules  the  storm,  makes  the 
calm,  and  regulates  the  minutiaj  of  human  life.  To  teach 
this  truth,  God  often  sees  it  to  be  necessary  to  reverse  his 
prospects,  to  tumble  his  fairy  hopes  into  the  dust,  and  to 
teach  him  by  severe  lessons  the  instability  of  every  thing 
beside  Himself.  Thus  it  was  with  us.  Joyous  in" the  pros- 
perous breeze,  we  thought  of  little  else.  Our  hearts  went 
not  to  God ;  we  thought  of  no  coming  storm. 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTOV. 


09 


Tho  storm. 


Ijand  discovered. 


Short  allowance. 


X8. 

ig  every 
progress, 
lart  with 
ilancholy 
illy  occa- 
I  and  we 
d  in  the 
voyage, 
thoughts, 

3rity,  he 
kty;  that 
Jnd;  and 
lakes  the 
["o  teach 
irerse  liis 
■,  and  to 
[ry  thing 
^he  pros- 
rts  went 


But  the  storm  came,  and  a  fearful  one  it  was.  For  a 
week,  the  obedient  breeze  had  met  our  warmest  wishes ;  but 
now  it  became  adverse  and  furious.  The  waves,  which  had 
hitherto  playfully  smacked  our  vessel's  side,  foamed  witli 
mighty  rage,  and  threatened  our  destruction;  they  broke 
fearfully  over  the  deck,  washing  ua  from  side  to  side ;  s^ 
dreadful  was  their  violence,  that  we  expected  every  mo- 
ment would  bury  us  deep  in  some  ocean  cave.  Feeling 
terrified  at  these  magnificent  displays  of  omnipotence  and 
power,  I  sought  relief  in  solemn  prayer  to  Him  who  calms 
the  ''  raging  seas." 

During  the  prevalence  of  the  gale,  I  remained  on  deck  as 
much  as  possible,  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  storm,  or  to 
read  the  feelings  of  the  crew  by  their  physiognomy.  After 
two  weeks  it  subsided ;  and  soon  afler  we  met  and  spoke 
several  ships,  which,  as  every  one  who  has  traversed  the 
ocean  knows,  is  a  very  enlivening  event  to  voyagers.  At 
length,  after  many  storms  and  dangei*y,  we  heard  the  wel- 
come cry  of  "  Land  Lo !  "  from  the  man  at  the  mast-head, 
which,  upon  examination,  was  found  to  be  the  American 
coast.  The  wind  was  now  fair,  and  both  troops  and  crew 
were  impatient  to  enter  the  noble  St.  Lawrence,  when  un- 
fortunately the  ship  ran  aground.  Much  confusion  of 
course  followed.  Our  water  was  thrown  overboard ;  two 
anchors  were  sunk,  and  after  much  faithful  effort  at  t\\r 
winches,  the  vessel  again  floated,  to  our  great  satisfaction. 
Hut  meeting  with  adverse  winds  again,  we  were  kept  beat- 
ing up  and  down  the  mouth  of  the  gulf  for  several  days, 
and  very  nearly  suffered  the  worst  of  deaths,  viz.,  death  hy 
thirst.  Our  water  was  very  nearly  exhausted,  and  we  were 
confined  to  half  a  pint  a  day  per  man  ;  and  that  wa.i  so 

filthy  and  loathsome,  that  with  all  our  thirst  we  could  scarcely 

7 


70 


LIFE    OF  WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITOK. 


A  narrow  escnpn. 


A  surprise. 


P'  ,1 


V'UM  I 


drink  it.  The  excesisive  heat  of  the  \veathei-  served  to 
heighten  our  distress  and  to  reduce  us  to  tlie  last  extremity 
of  misery.  My  suffering  was  so  great,  that  I  made'  a  vain 
attempt  to  quench  the  violence  of  my  thirst  by  tlni  use  of 
sea-water,  which  oidy  increased  my  miseries.  Once  I 
broke  through  the  restrictions  of  the  ship,  and  secretly  stole 
down  to  the  water-cask  and  obtained  a  draught  of  water, 
which,  though  rei'reshing  to  me  at  that  time,  would  be  re- 
fused with  disgust  on  shore. 

We  were  now  enveloped  in  a  thick,  damp,  fog,  so  dense 
that  we  could  not  discover  an  object  a  rod  beyond  the  ship's 
bows.  In  this  situation  we  sailed  several  days,  until  one 
morning,  between  the  hours  of  twelve  and  four,  the  captain 
was  aroused  by  a  tremendous  grating,  as  if  the  ship  had 
run  upon  a  rock.  He  rushed  upon  deck  in  his  night  clothes, 
and  with  a  voice  ihat  thrilled  the  stoutest  heart,  shouted, 
"  About  ship  or  we  are  lost !"  This  command  was  sudden 
and  unexpected.  The  crew  seemed  stultified,  and  no  one 
moved.  After  a  moment's  pause,  in  a  voice  more  terrible 
than  before,  the  shout  of  the  captain,  "  About  ship,  or  w^e 
are  lost !"  aroused  them  to  a  sense  of  their  danger  and  duty. 
Every  man  flew  to  his  station,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
danger  was  escaped.  It  was  then  ditcovered  that  the  delay 
of  a  few  minutes  would  have  run  our  bark  upon  a  danger- 
ous ledge  of  rocks,  where  we  must  have  hecome  a  perfect 
wreck.  Providence,  kind,  indulgent  Providence,  alone 
effected  our  deliverance  ;  for,  had  not  the  captain  awaked 
precisely  at  the  moment  he  did,  all  must  have  perished ! 
Narrowly  e8cai>ing  a  similar  danger,  soon  after,  we  cast  an- 
chor, to  wait  for  the  dawn  of  day. 

During  all  this  danger  and  alarm,  two  of  the  watches, 
amounting  to  more  than   a  hundred  men,  were  fast  locked 


L^ 


LIPR    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIQHTON. 


71 


River  St.  L:iwrrnce. 


Anecdote. 


[tches, 
)cked 


t]j 


ignora 


of 


lauger 


in  the  embraces  of  sleep, 
of  safety.  When,  therefore,  the  anchor  was  dropped,  draw- 
ing after  it  the  huge  chain  cable,  with  a  noise  like  the  crash 
of  falling  timbers,  these  were  aroused  in  great  fright  and 
alarm.  Snp])osing  that  they  M-ere  all  going  to  the  bottom, 
they  rushed  upon  deck  in  utter  confusion,  and  almost  in  a 
state  of  nudity,  screaming  and  crying  aloud  for  mercy.  The 
scene  was  at  once  ludicous  and  painful ;  it  was  some  time 
before  their  fea-rs  wert^  allayed,  and  they  prevailed  upon  to 
retire  to  their  berths  below. 

At  dny-light,  the  fog  and  darkness  disappeared,  and  we 
found  ourselves  riding  gaily  at  anchor  in  the  majestic  St.  Law- 
rence. We  soon  weighed  anchor,  and,  with  wide-spread  sails, 
r-^ught  the  favorin;^  gale,  and  rapidly  ascended  this  noble 
stream  ;  from  which  in  a  few  hours,  refreshing  draughts  of 
water  were  obtained  to  quencli  our  burning  thirst.  A  pilot 
now  came  on  board,  and  our  spirits  were  highly  excited 
with  the  prospect  of  being  speedily  on  shore.  The  wind, 
however,  soon  depressed  our  rising  hopes,  for  by  a  sudden 
change  it  became  adverse,  and  we  could  only  sail  at  the 
changes  of  the  tide  ;  to  add  to  our  discomfort  the  cap- 
tain compelled  the  troops  to  remain  below  with  closed 
hatches  a  great  part  of  the  time.  This  unkind  step  pre- 
vented us  from  enjoying  the  beautiful  scenery  of  this  queen 
of  streams. 

Several  instances  of  high-handed  tyranny  occurred  du- 
ring the  time  we  were  on  board,  one  of  whicii  I  will  men- 
tion. One  day,  after  washing  my  ( lothe^  I  hung  them  in 
the  rigging  to  dry  ;  at  night,  they  were  stolen.  Finding 
them  gone,  I  made  proper  inquiry,  and  found  them  in  the 
possession  of  the  thief,  one  of  my  comrades.  I  reported 
him  to  the  proper  cfP  "t,  and  requested  hira  to  obtain   the 


'2 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM    B.   LIOnXON. 


Quebec. 


The  iMndlnff  at  Montrenl. 


re^oration  of  my  property.  But  the  tyrant  hanghtily  bade 
ine  begone,  threatening  if  he  heard  another  word  from  me, 
to  put  me  into  confinement.  Thus,  unjustly,  I  was  com- 
p(;Iled  to  be  silent  under  the  endurance  of  a  grievous  wrong. 
"Well  has  it  been  remarked  by  a  certain  author,  that  "  when 
sulyects  are  ill-treated  by  subaltern  officers,  and  make  re- 
monstrance to  the  prince  because  of  the  too  great  authority 
of  his  ministers  of  state,  their  lot  is  like  that  of  a  man,  who, 
half  dead  with  thirst,  approaches  a  rirer  to  drink,  but,  per- 
(M'iving  a  crocodile,  is  obliged  to  perish  for  lack  of  water,  or 
submit  to  be  devoured." 

We  soon  arrived  in  front  of  the  impregnable  city  of  Que- 
bec, after  a  tedious  voyage  of  seven  weeks ;  its  buildings 
and  fortifications  rose  full  upon  our  visions,  and  filled  every 
heart  with  animation,  and  ever}i  eye  with  the  'flashings  of 
delight.  Hope  had  its  part  in  producing  this  warm  excite- 
ment ;  for  it  whispered  of  better  days  to  come.  The  salute 
of  the  battery  upon  our  arrival  was  taken  by  us  as  the  wel- 
I'DTue  of  the  Canadas  to  their  future  defenders ;  and  the 
plentiful  supply  of  provisions  sent  us  from  the  shore,  as  an 
i-^rnest  of  their  intended  kindness  and  humanity  towards  us. 
Bat  these  were  fancy's  dreams  in  a  young  soldier's  breast, 
divlined  to  be  dispelled  by  the  hard  hand  of  reality,  and  sober 


c\[)crience. 


The  day  after  our  arrival,  another  ship,  containing  two 
hundred  troops,  cast  anchor  beside  us,  having  made  her 
voyage  in  four  weeks.  The  next  day  we  were  all  put  on 
board  a  steamboat,  and  safely  conveyed  to  Montreal,  which 
we  reached  in  good  health  and  spirits.  The  officers  of  the 
regiment  boarded  us  the  moment  we  touched  the  whai-f. 
With  much  urbanity  of  manner,  they  congratulated  us  up- 
on our  safe  arrival,  paraded  us  on  board  the  boat,  and  then 


LIFE   OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIOIITON. 


78 


A  motioy  roKlniunt. 


Brttiih  ofticeri«. 


her 
Kit  oil 
^hicli 
^f  the 
rhai*f« 
|s  up- 
then 


marched  us  to  the  barracks  ;  where  we  were  joyfully  hailrrl 
jind  kindly  received  by  the  old  noldiers  of  the  regiment, 
who  cheerfully  divided  their  provisions  among  us  to  meet 
our  immediate  wants.  We  were  all  detained  in  the  yard 
of  the  barracks,  until  divided  and  allotted  to  the  several 
companies.  While  this  was  going  on,  two  English  offiirers, 
evidently  attracted  by  }ny  extreme  youth,  kindly  questioned 
me  as  to  my  parents,  history,  &c.,  in  a  manner  which  gjiv*- 
me  great  satisfaction.  It  afforded  me  jileasure  to  find j  my- 
self afterwards  drafted  for  their  company. 

For  a  few  days  we  were  treated  with  considerable  lenity. 
Being  allowed  many  hours  of  spare  time,  we  visited  the 
ancient  and  curious  buildings  of  the  city ;  but  these,  to  my 
taste,  looked  poorly  compared  with  what  I  had  seen  in  thr 
father-land.  The  appearance  and  character  of  the  regi- 
ment were  also  matters  of  surprise  to  my  mind ;  it  was 
made  up  of  an  odd  mixture,  a  curious  medley  of  the  repre- 
sentatives of  almost  every  nation  on  earth.  There  were 
the  grave  Englishman,  the  hardy  Scotchman,  the  thoughtless 
Irishman,  the  gay  1  renchman,  the  sober  German,  the  cun- 
ning Portuguese,  the  treacherous  Spaniard,  the  musical 
Italian,  and  the  boorish  Dutchman — an  assemblage  that 
made  any  thing  but  a  pleasing  impression  upon  my  mind. 
Many  of  them  were  fierce  as  the  Indian,  but  most  retained 
the  characteristics  of  the  nation  to  which  they  belonged. 
Some  few  bore  the  marks  of  distinguislied  zeal  and  piety ; 
while  others  were  totally  devoid  of  every  religious  feeling 
but  superstition,  and  of  every  principle  but  what  led  to 
vice ;  and  many  seemed  as  stupid  to  all  ideas  of  human 
duty  as  the  brute  of  the  field. 

Withal,  I  felt  surprised  that  British  soldiers  should  imi- 
tate the  semi-barbarian  by  wearing  the  hair  on  the  u})pe' 

7* 


! 


18 


74 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIOHTON. 


The  spell  of  departed  days. 


lip,  which  was  their  practice  at  that  time,  though  discon- 
tinued shortly  after.  Our  otficers  were  mostly  men  of  kind 
and  pliant  dispositions;  they  were  made  up  of  English, 
[rish,  Scotch,  and  Germans.  Our  commanding  officer, 
Colonel  Fitzgerald,  was  an  Irishman  by  birth,  a  gentleman 
by  education  and  property,  and  possessed  a  disposition  that 
rnadc  him  beloved  by  every  soldier  under  his  command. 
His  lady  was  a  w^oman  equally  beloved  and  admired,  pos- 
sessing a  rare  disposition  of  kindness  and  benevolence. 
Her  influence  was  great,  and  her  manners  pleiasing.  From 
her  sympathy  and  efforts  in  behalf  of  poor,  delinquent  sol- 
diers, she  Lid  obtained  the  honorable  and  distinguishing 
appellation  of  "  the  prisoner's  advocate"  among  the  troops. 
Though  these  trifling  privileges,  the  urbanity  of  our 
oflicers,  and  the  novelty  of  every  thing  around  me, 
served  to  keep  my  mind  engaged,  and  to  prevent  settled 
despondency,  yet  there  were  moments  when  my  spirit  clung 
with  painful  tenacity  to  the  things  of  other  days — to  de- 
parted hours — to  a  lost  home  and  sacrificed  friendships. 
Then  my  somI  would  pour  out  its  complaints  in  solitude 
and  giv€  itself  up  to  all  the  luxury  of  grief.  O,  there  is  a 
chaJCPi  iu  departed  days,  which  enchains  and  makes  us  cap- 
tiye  to  their  spells.  The  poet  has  so  beautifully  expressed 
the  feeling  of  the  lone  heart  in  view  of  the  past,  that  I  can- 
not refrain  from  laying  before  the  reader,  as  expressive  of 
my  state  of  feeling  at  this  period  of  my  changeful  experi- 
ance,  the  following  extract : — 

"  Days  of  my  childhood,  hail ! 

Whose  gentle  spirits,  wandering  here 
Down  in  the  visionary  vale, 

Before  mine  eyes  appear 
Benignly  penaive,  beautifully  pale. 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


75 


An  extract. 


0,  days  forever  fled,  forever  dear, 


Days  of  my  childhood,  hail 


cap- 
jssed 

can- 
Ive  of 
Iperi- 


"  The  loud  Atlantic  Ocean, 

On  England's  rugged  breast 
Rocks  with  harmonious  motion 

His  weary  waves  to  rest, 
And,  gleaming  round  her  emerald  isles, 
In  all  the  pomp  of  sunset  smiles. 

On  that  romantic  shore 
My  parents  hailed  their  first-born  boy  ; 

A  mother's  pangs  my  mother  bore  ; 

My  father  felt  a  father's  joy." 

«         *    .     «         *         « 

"  1  ight  without  darkness,  without  sorrow  joy, 

On  earth  are  all  unknown  to  man  ; 
'  here  while  I  roved  a  heedless  boy, 

There,  while  through  paths  of  peac»*  I  ran, 
My  feet  were  vexed  with  puny  snares. 
My  bosom  stung  with  insect  ciAes  ; 

But  Oh  !  what  light  and  litilt  things 
Are  childhood's  woes  !  they  break  no  rest  ; 

Like  dew-drops  on  the  sky-lark'a  winga, 
While  slumbering  in  his  grassy  nest, 

Gone  in  u  moment,  when  he  springs 
To  meet  the  morn  with  open  breast." 
*         *         »         «         * 

"  To  soon  my  mind's  awakening  powers 

Made  the  light  slumbers  flee  ; 
Then  vanished  with  the  golden  hours 

The  morning  dreams  of  infancy  ; 

Sweet  were  those  slumbers,  dear  those  dreams  to  me  ; 
And  yet  to  mournful  memory,  lingering  here. 
Sweet  are  those  slumbers,  and  those  dreams  are  dear  ; 

For  hither,  from  my  native  clime, 
The  hand  that  leads  Orion  forth. 
And  wheels  Arcturus  round  the  north, 


I 


76 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTOK. 


An  extract. 


Brought  me  in  life's  exulting  prime. 
Blest  be  that  hand  !  whelhv'ir  it  shed 
Mercies  or  judgments  on  my  head, 
Extend  the  sceptre  or  exalt  the  rod, 
Bleet  be  that  hand — it  is  the  l;and  of  God. 


CHAPTER  V. 


"~~^| 


"  The  boy  was  sprung  to  manhood  ;  in  the  wildH 
Of  fiery  climes  he  made  himself  a  liome, 

_— .  on  the  sea 

And  on  the  shore  he  was  a  wanderrr." 


BvRoisr. 


After  being  allowed  a  sufficient  time  to  recover  from  tlie 
effects  of  our  long  and  tedious  voyage,  we  commenced  the 
duties  of  our  military  life  in  Canada,  by  being  placed  under 
the  care  of  an  experienced  sergeant,  to  be  more  fully  fitted, 
by  continued  drillings,  for  the  several  parts  of  a  soldier's 
occupation.  As  the  old  soldiers  were  worn  down  by  toil, 
this  work  was  prosecuted  with  much  vigor,  and  we  were 
kept  in  the  field  from  early  morning  to  dusky  eve.  Of  course, 
we  had  no  time  for  recreation,  for  we  were  glad  to  retire 
to  bed  as  soon  as  we  were  freed  from  the  commands  of  our 
instructing  officer.  This  was  the  beginning  of  our  trials — 
the  first  monition  of  experience,  dissipating  some  of  our  airy 
visions  of  ease  and  rest  in  America. 

The  insect  tribe  soon  showed  themselves  to  be  among  our 
most  formidable  foes,  by  depriving  us  almost  entirely  of 
sleep  during  the  night.  That  tnan-hving  genus,  the  inde- 
structible bed-bug,  had  quartered  most  innumerably  in  our 
barracks,  and  every  night  they  attacked  us  in  whole  battal- 
ions. AVe  formed  various  schemes  for  their  destruction,  but 
still  they  flourished  and  increased.  Some  of  my  comrades 
retreated,  and  slept  in  the  barrack-yard,  until  the  night  air 
threatened  to  be  more  ruinous  than  the  insect  marauders  of 
our  room.     I  conceived   a   curious   expedient :  placing  my 


{i 


I!! 


li 


78 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


New  enemies. 


Colonel  Andrews. 


ill 


bed  on  the  floor,  I  made  a  trench  around  it,  and  filled  it  up 
with  water.  This  I  supposed  would  free  me  from  their  in- 
vasions ;  but  my  opponents  were  not  to  be  avoided  thus  ;  for 
they  soon  came  dropping  down  from  the  ceiling,  like  rain 
drops  from  the  sky.  Finding  we  had  no  other  alternative, 
we  at  last  gave  ourselves  up  to  be  devoured  at  their  plea- 
Bure.     We  submitted  like  soldiers  who  cannot  conquer. 

Many  of  our  number  being  the  devotees  of  vice  in  its 
various  forms,  we  were  frequently  called  to  witness  their 
punishment ;  which,  according  to  military  law,  was  done  with 
the  whip,  or  cat,  as  it  is  technically  called.  On  these  melan- 
choly occasions,  our  humane  colonel  would  turn  away  his 
head  and  weep,  and  he  generally  remitted  the  greater  por- 
tion of  their  punishment.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  direction 
of  the  military  law,  he  would  have  dispensed  with  that  kind 
of  punishment  entirely  in  his  regiment.  Happy  would  it 
have  been  for  us,  had  his  successors,  and  his  fellow-officers, 
possessed  a  kindred  kindness  !  Unfortunately  for  us,  and 
for  our  peace,  we  were  shortly  after  deprived  of  his  servi- 
ces ;  he  being  appointed  to  another  and  a  higher  station  by 
his  government. 

He  was  succeeded  by  Colonel  Andrews,  a  Scotchman, 
who  was  the  very  reverse  of  his  worthy  predecessor.  Upon 
assuming  the  command,  he  seemed  determined  to  ruin  the 
peace  and  destroy  the  happiness  of  the  whole  regiment,  by 
his  harsh  and  tyrannical  measures.  He  began  by  ordering 
all  the  troops,  old  and  young,  to  the  field  for  exercise — a 
measure  highly  offensive  to  the  veteran  soldiers,  who,  lor 
many  years,  had  been  exempted  from  this,  to  them,  unneces- 
sary toil.  They  grumbled  and  complained  without  any  re- 
lief,— still  they  were  drilled  daily,  to  their  no  small  chagri-i. 
Punishment  for  trivial  offences  was  also  made  cruelly  sev  re 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


70 


Military  piinishinent. 


The  rtiigginR. 


Ihman, 
I  Upon 
|in  the 
It,  by 
lering 
se — a 

leces- 
ly  re- 

}V  re 


I 


the 


of 


new  colonel.  As  a  necessary  consequence,  mai 
the  men  deserted.  Some  of  ihe  deserters  were  soon  tjj.ken  ; 
court-martials  were  called,  and  the  fearful  sentence  of  sei^en 
hundred  lashes  pronounced  upon  them,  and  but  too  faithfully 
executed. 

These  spectacles,  as  already  hinted,  were  barbarously  se- 
vere. 


The  poor,  condemned  soldiers, 


Sad  culprits,  doomed  to  cruel  torture, 

Would  sit  impatient  and  inly  ruminate 

Upon  the  morning's  danger.     Their  gestures  wild, 

Pale  cheeks,  fixed  eyes,  and  trembling  hearts, 

So  changed  them,  that  to  our  gaze  they  seemed 

Of  their  former  selves  but  horrid  ghosts. 

The  unhappy  wretch,  found  guilty  of  the  crime  of  deser- 
tion from  this  military  tyranny,  and  condemned  to  this  cruel 
infliction,  was  confined  under  a  watchful  guard,  until  the 
morning  specified  by  his  merciless  judges  for  his  punish- 
ment. The  mean  while  the  triangle  is  erected.  This  is  an 
instrument  composed  of  three  poles  placed  triangularly,  and 
fastened  at  the  top  with  an  iron  bolt ;  it  is  spread  wide 
enough  to  fasten  the  legs  and  hands  of  the  victim  to  two  of 
them ;  a  board  secured  across  for  the  breast  to  lean  uno>  , 
completes  this  instrument  of  barbarity.  On  the  day  of  the 
punishment,  the  troops  in  the  garrison  are  marched  into  the 
the  yard,  and  formed  into  a  lai'ge  hollow  square.  Next 
comes  the  trembling  criminal,  guarded  by  a  file  of  soldiers 
and  an  officer.  U{)on  reaching  the  triangle  they  halt,  while 
the  adjutant  reads  the  decision  and  sentence  of  the  court- 
martial.  Then  the  commanding  officer  gives  the  dread  com- 
mand, amid  breathless  silence,  of,  "Proceed  to  punishment !" 


ii 


m 


LItE    OP   WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTOJik 


Mode  of  flof^ging. 


The  cat  of  nine  tails. 


The  poor  deserter  is  stripped  nuked  to  the  waist,  and  his 
hands  and  ankles  bound  firmly  to  two  arms  of  the  triangle  ; 
thus  stretched,  and  in  a  posture  somewhat  leaning  forwards? 
he  awaits  the  application  of  the  whip.  The  musicians,  with 
the  drum  or  bugle-major,  take  their  stand  behind  him  in 
single  file.  There,  too,  stands  the  surgeon  of  the  regiment, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  watch  the  symptoms  of  the  sufferer,  and 
to  stop  the  execution  when,  in  his  judgment,  he  is  able  to 
endure  no  more.  The  bugle-major  then  orders  the  musician 
who  stands  first  in  the  rank  to  occupy  the  post  of  duty ;  this 
lie  does  by  laying  aside  his  coat,  and  by  proceeding  within 
one  pace  of  the  prisoner.  Then,  raisii  ig  his  body  with  a 
strong,  muscular  effort,  he  applies  the  "  cat  of  nine  tails '' 
with  all  his  strength,  and  with  a  peculiar  whirl  brings  it  to 
his  right  again,  ready  for  a  second  blow.  lie  continues 
striking  about  once  in  four  seconds,  until  he  has  given  twenty- 
five  lashes,  when,  at  'he  ordor  of  the  major,  who  counts  the 
blows,  he  desists,  and  his  place  is  supplied  by  a  fresh  hand. 
If  any  of  the  executioners  do  not  strike  with  their  utmost 
force,  they  themselves  are  whippetl  by  the  major,  who  is 
provided  with  a  whip  or  cane  for  this  purpose. 

The  "  cat  of  nine  tails "  is  composed  of  nine  separate 
cords,  twisted  very  hard,  and  having  three  knots  on  each 
cord  at  regular  distances  from  tlie  end ;  sometimes  the  ends 
are  bound  with  wire,  to  increase  the  pain.  The  whip  in 
usually  about  eighteen  inches  in  lengLli,  and  the  stock  fifteen, 
making  thirty-three  inches  in  the  entii'e  length  ;  and  in  the 
hands  of  a  skilful  practitioner  it  is  a  most  severe  weapon  or 
instrument  of  torture. 

The  effect  of  this  infliction  is  a})palling  in  the  extreme- 
The  first  blow  forces  a  deep  groan  from  the  hapless  cul()rit ; 
the  first  twenty-five  bring  blood ;  at  the  close  of  the   Hrst 


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nFE    OF   WILLIA5I   B.    LIC.t  '  ON. 


81 


The  culprit  after  iiunlshnicnt. 


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huiulrcd  the  back  is  literally  torn  to  pieces,  and  the  warm 
blood  runs  in  copious  streams  to  the  ground !  Sometimes 
the  sufferer  in  the  most  suppliant  tones  ])egs  for  mercy  ;  now 
his  unutterable  groans  rend  the  air,  and  anon  he  howls  tor 
very  agony ;  then  he  exclaims,  like  a  second  Cain,  "  My 
punishment  is  gi'cater  thai\  1  tan  bear." 

Our  colonel — hard-hearted  man  ! — used  to  stand  unmoved 
at  these  scenes,  or,  biting  his  lips,  (one  of  his  peculiarities,) 
walk  up  and  down  with  a}»|>aronlly  no  feeling  or  concern. 
On  the  contrary,  the  troop8  were  usujilly  affecfed  to  an  as- 
tonishing degree.  Some  of  them  I  have  seen  faint,  and  fall 
lifeless  to  the  earth,  while  nearly  all  turned  their  heads  in 
sorrow. 

After  the  execution,  a  wet  cloth  is  thrown  upon  the 
mangled  and  blood-stained  back  of  the  poor  man,  and  he  is 
conveyed  to  the  hospital,  to  recover  or  die,  v/hich  latter  is 
sometimes  the  result ;  indeed,  many  have  been  known  to  die 
at  the  whipping-i)ost !  and  others  have  had  their  bodies  so 
torn,  that  their  intestines  have  appeared  from  their  wounds  ! 
O  horrid  brutality  !  Where  finds  it  a  parallel  but  among 
savages  and  inquisitors  !  Alas,  for  my  country !  that  such 
cruelty  should  blot  the  annals  of  her  fair  fame !  May  it 
speedily  cease  from  among  her  children.  That  the  reader 
may  not  think  I  have  overdrawn  the  dark  lines  of  this  dark 
picture,  I  take  the  liberty  to  insert  Dr.  Adam  Clarke's  note 
on  the  25th  chapter  of  Deuteronomy,  and  the  3d  verse. 
"  Forty  stripes  ye  may  give  Idm^  and  not  exceed."  He 
says, 

"  According  to  God's  institution,  a  criminal  may  receive 

forty  stripes  ;  not  one  more  !     But  is  the  institution  fix)m 

above,  or  not,  that  for  any  offence  sentences  a  man  to  receive 

thra  hundred,  yea,  a  thousand  stripes  ?     What  horrible 

8 


89 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   U.   LIC.IITON. 


Dr.  Clarke's  note. 


Socrcry  of  (loiritinc 


brutality  is  thi.«  !  .and  what  a  reproach  to  luiiiiaii  nature,  and 
the  nation  in  wliich  such  .sliocking  barbarities  are  cxcrci.sed 
and  tolerated  !  Most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain 
have  heard  of  Lord  Macartney's  embassy  to  the  emperor  of 
China  ;  and  they  liave  heard  also  of  its  complete  failure  ; 
but  they  have  not  heard  of  the  cause.  It  api)ears  to  have 
been  partly  occasioned  by  the  following  circumstance. 

"A  soldier  had  been  convicted  of  some  petty  traffic  with 
one  of  the  natives,  and  he  wa5  sentenced  by  a  court-martial 
to  receive  sixty  lashes  !  Hear  my  author  :  '  The  soldiers 
were  drawn  up  in  form  in  the  outer  court  of  the  palace  where 
lie  resided  ;  and  the  poor  culprit,  being  fastened  to  one  of 
the  pillars  of  the  great  portico,  received  his  punishment 
■without  mitigation.  The  abhorrence  excited  in  the  breasts 
of  the  Chinese  at  this  cruel  conduct,  as  it  appeared  to  them, 
was  demonstrably  proved  by  their  words  an  1  looks.  They 
expressed  their  astonishment  that  a  people  professing  the 
mildest,  the  most  benevolent  religion  on  earth,  as  they  wish- 
ed to  have  it  believed,  could  be  guilty  of  such  flagrant  inat- 
tention to  its  merciful  dictates.  One  of  the  principal  man- 
darins, who  knew  a  little  English,  expressed  the  general 
sentiment,  "  Englishmen  toe  much  cruel,  too  much  bad.''* '  " 

It  should  have  been  remarked,  that  these  punishments 
were  always  inflicted  within  the  walls  of  the  barracks  ;  every 
avenue  to  the  public  streets  being  closed  and  guarded,  to 
prevent  the  entrance  of  the  people,  and  keep  from  them  the 
knowledge  of  these  insufferable  cruelties.  No  w^onder  that 
they  were  kept  thus  partially  secret ;  for  even  a  fiend  might 
blush  to  have  it  known  that  he  had  treated  a  fellow-fiend  so 
cruelly.  TV  ickedness  delights  in  darkness,  and  its  perpetra- 
tors should  remember  that  hell  is  dark,  and  there  they  will 
have  to  practice  at  last. 


LIFK    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIGIITON. 


88 


Hani  trcutmont. 


Knapsnck  dxill. 


>  » 


Our  oppressor  continued  his  severity.  Ilartl  drill  and 
liarsh  trcjitment  for  minor  oflfcnecs  thinned  our  ranks  every 
week.  To  pi-cvent  this  he  confined  us  all  to  the  barracks  ; 
upon  whieli  many  of  the  men  swore  they  would  desert  at 
the  first  moment  of  their  liberation  from  this  confinement  ; 
and,  accordingly,  in  a  short  time  after,  we  lost  a  hundred 
men  by  desertion  !  This  wrought  the  cxasjicrated  colonel 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  insane  anger ;  he  hardly  knew  how 
to  vent  his  wrath.  One  day  he  gathered  us  into  close  rank 
after  parade,  and  addressed  us  in  a  most  vituperative  and 
insulting  strain,  calling  rs  rogues  and  traitors,  and  threat- 
ening us  with  the  utmost  severity  if  we  dared  to  disobey 
his  orders. 

On  one  occasion  I  fell  under  his  displeasure.  We  were 
on  parade,  the  colonel  commanding  by  means  of  the  bugle. 
lie  gave  the  words,  "  Disperse  and  fire  !"  in  a  moment  wi' 
were  scattered,  when  the  bugle  again  sounded — "  Assemble 
and  form  ranks  in  double  quick."  Happening  to  be  some- 
what in  the  rear,  the  adjutant  perceived  and  struck  me 
with  his  swoixl,  and  took  down  my  name.  I  attempted  to 
explain,  by  telling  him  that,  in  a  skirmish,  a  soldier  had 
trodden  off  the  heel  of  my  shoe,  and  so  hindered  me  from 
running ;  but  he  answered  me  Avith  an  oath,  j)ushed  me  in- 
to the  ranks,  and  told  me  that  I  should  be  punished.  The 
next  day  I  was  ordered,  with  a  number  of  others,  to  ^^hiap- 
sac/c  ^nV/;"  which  consisted  in  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing for  hours  upon  the  parade-ground,  with  our  loaded  knap- 
sacks uix)n  our  backs.  The  officer  in  charge  of  t]uf  hiap- 
sack  parti/  was  exceedingly  vexatious  and  harassing  in  his 
orders  ;  having  utterly  exhausted  our  patience,  we  refused 
to  obey  him.  When  he  gave  the  word  "  right,"  or  "  left 
turn,"  we  marched  in  different  directions.    At  last  he  brought 


^, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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11.25  i  1.4 


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PholograiAic 

Sdences 

Corporalion 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRfiT 

WEkSTER.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)  •72-4503 


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84 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Efforts  fo  prevent  desertion. 


The  stern  culprit. 


US  to  subjection  by  threatening  to  "  put  us  under  guard ;" 
Avhen  considering  tliat  the  "  wisest  part  of  valor  is  discre- 
tion," ve  quietly  submitted  the  rest  of  the  day ;  thus  of 
two  evils  choosing  the  least,  seeing  we  were  compelled  to 
choose  one. 

To  Slop  these  increasing  desertions,  every  precaution 
was  used.  We  were  compelled  to  answer  the  roll-call  at 
least  four  times  a  day  ;  and  if  at  these  times  any  were  mis- 
sing, i)reparations  were  immediately  made  for  their  detec- 
tion and  recovery.  This  made  it  next  to  impossible  to 
escape  with  any  reasonable  prospect  of  getting  beyond  pur- 
suit before  our  absence  should  be  discovered,  unless  pos- 
sessed of  some  means  of  rapid  travelling.  Still,  such 
Avere  our  hardships,  that  numbers,  goaded  to  the  attempt  by 
repeated  insults  and  cruelties,  dared  to  risk  the  danger. 
Some  of  them  fortunately  escaped,  but  others  were  over- 
taken. Among  the  latter  was  a  young  Englishman,  named 
Arnold,  who  was  tried  and  sentenced  to  receive  seven 
hundred  lashes.  AVhen  they  lashed  him  to  tlio  triangle,  he 
placed  a  leaden  ball  between  his  teeth,  and  declared  he 
would  not  ask  the  remission  of  his  punishment.  He  kept 
his  word.  He  uttered  neither  word,  groan,  nor  prayer  dur- 
ing the  tremendous  infliction.  He  put  on  his  clothes  with- 
out assistance,  and  even  taunted  the  colonel  by  thanking  him 
for  his  breakfast.  He  then  walked  out  of  the  square,  re- 
gai'dless  of  the  word  of  command,  and  the  bratal  officer 
ordered  him  back,  and  made  him  march  out  in  proper  order. 
The  gi-ound,  where  he  was  punished,  was  thickly  sprink- 
led with  blood,  and  the  whip  was  bathed  in  gore,  so  much 
BO,  that  it  dropped  from  the  end  of  the  '' cat"  Insuffera- 
ble brutality ! 

Jn  the  ensuing  spring,  the  unfortunate  Arnold  made  an- 


I 


LIFE    OP  WILLIAM  B.   LIGHTON. 


85 


The  deserters  recovered. 


EJscape  of  a  prisoner. 


he 

kept 

duF- 

^ith- 

him 

re- 
icer 
eder. 
ink- 
luch 
fera- 

an- 


f 


other  futile  attempt  to  desert,  in  company  with  a  comrade, 
whose  name  was  Dackenhousen,  a  young  German,  the  pride 
of  our  regiment.  They  failed,  through  the  treachery  of  a 
dastardly  farmer.  They  had  taken  refuge  in  his  barn 
when  he  accidentally  discovered  them.  He  promised  to  keep 
their  hiding-place  a  secret,  until  they  should  escape ;  in- 
stead of  which,  he  gave  immediate  information  to  the  offi- 
cers. A  guard  was  sent  for  their  apprehension,  and  the  un- 
fortunates were  brought  back  to  the  barracks.  The  wretch, 
who  informed  against  them,  received  thirty  dollars  for  his 
unmanly  act.  It  is  hoped  that  they  proved  to  be  thirty 
thorns  in  his  heart. 

Arnold  was  kept  closely  confined,  chained  to  a  heavy  ball, 
while  his  case  was  laid  before  His  Majesty's  government 
in  England.  He  was  sentenced  to  transportation  for  life  I 
Dackenhousen  was  put  in  confinement,  to  await  his  trial 
for  desei  tion.  Fearful  c^  the  fate  that  awaited  him,  he* 
one  night,  when  the  guard  was  asleep,  passed  the  first  senti- 
nel at  the  guard-room  door;  rushed  across  the  barrack- 
yard,  passed  another  sentinel  at  the  gate,   and  escaped. 

Thus  he  passed  two  armed  soldiers  and  opened  two  gates 
without  detection — an  act  of  no  ordinary  daring.  The 
young  soldier  on  guard  at  the  guard-room  door  said,  that 
though  fully  aware  of  the  fact,  he  was  deprived  of  all  power 
to  speak  or  act.  The  next  morning  a  number  of  detach- 
ments were  sent  in  pursuit  with  loaded  rifles,  and  orders  to 
take  him  "  dead  or  alive  /"  After  several  days'  search,  they 
returned  without  their  prey.  He  escaped  to  the  United 
States ;  from  whence  he  wrote  back  to  his  comrades,  invi- 
ting them  all  to  follow  him  ;  and  I  verily  believe,  that,  had 
it  not  been  for  fear  of  detection,  the  whole  regiment  would 
have  accepted  the  invitation. 
8* 


ifT" 


ill 


86 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


ii 


11 


Mental  afflictions. 


Morul  state. 


For  my  own  part,  I  was  heartily  sick  of  so  toilsome  « 
life,  but  the  cruel  punishments  I  had  witnessed,  and  which 
to  mc  appeared  worse  thar  death,  deterred  me  from  at- 
tempting desertion.  To  be  resigned  to  my  condition  was  to 
mc  equally  impoissiblc,  especially  as  I  had  Icanied  tliat  my 
regiment,  for  some  cause  or  other,  was  a  condemned  corps* 
This  of  course  rendered  its  return  to  England  hicrhly  im- 
probable,  so  that  my  hopes  of  seeing  my  i>arents,  as  avcU  as 
the  deep  disgrace  of  belonging  to  a  transported  regiment, 
lieightened  my  uneasiness  and  increased  my  disaffection : 
and  should  the  regiment  return,  I  should  still  be  the  subject 
of  the  evils  of  a  soldier's  life. 

To  increase  my  misery,  I  received  no  communications 
from  my  dear  parents^  though  I  had  frequently  written  to 
them.  I  supposed  thai,  indignant  at  my  disobedience,  :liey 
had  determined  to  leave  me  to  plod  my  way  through  life 
impitied  and  alone.  These  united  causes  created  a  mighty 
tumult  of  emotion  in  my  mind,  which  well  nigh  hurried  me 
into  that  depthless  vortex  of  human  ruin,  dissipation,  which 
the  wily  tempter  of  mankind  suggested  would  afford  relief, 
or  at  least  a  mitigation  of  my  sorrows.  But,  blessed  ])e 
the  God  of  my  salvation,  T  was  saved  from  this  fatal  step — - 
my  mind  was  mysteriously  directed  to  the  great  Author  of 
all  good,  for  succor  and  strength,  Often  in  the  darkness 'Of 
night,  I  have  poured  out  my  griefs  to  God,  and  made  known 
my  complaints  to  the  only  efficient  friend  of  the  helpless  chil- 
dren of  men.  Still  I  was  little  better  than  a  heathen  ; 
knowing  little  else  of  religion  but  the  form.  Blessed  be 
God  for  his  restraining  grace,  that  kept  me  in  these  hours 
of  ignorance  and  danger. 

To  divert  my  mind  as  much  as  possible,  I  devoted  my 
little  leisure  to  the  acquirement  of  knowledge,  attending  a 


lOurs 


ing  a 


'j 


LIFE    OF    AVILLIAM    B*   LIGIITON. 


87 


A  friend. 


His  advice. 


school  part  of  the  time,  and  studying  drawing  and  music 
the  remainder.  My  comrade,  Henry  Apple,  a  German  oi' 
middle  age  and  good  attainments  assisted  me  materially  in 
these  pursuitti.  His  regard  for  me  was  strong  and  sincere ; 
lie  gave  me  the  advice  of  a  parent,  and  delighted  to  speak 
of  me  as  his  son.  To  him  I  related  the  history  of  my  pa- 
rentage and  travels.  He  strongly  advised  mc  to  desert,  al- 
leging that  I  could  expect  nothing  but  misery  while  I  re- 
mained in  the  army.  We  .  should  have  deserted  together, 
had  it  not  been  that  the  time  for  which  he  enlisted  was 
nearly  expired. 

Notwithstanding  his  advice,  I  continued  to  endure  my 
troubles.  I  formed  a  p!::vn  to  obtain  my  discharge  by  saving 
"iny  wages.  This  required  twenty  pounds  sterling.  My 
])ay  amounted  to  but  one  shilling  and  one  penny  per  diem, 
out  of  which  I  had  to  purchase  several  articles  of  food  and 
clothing.  To  further  my  design,  I  gave  up  my  allowance 
of  grog,  and  received  its  equivalent  in  money.  But  with 
economy,  I  could  not  succeed  in  saving  more  than  six  shil- 
lings per  month ;  at  which  rate,  it  would  have  taken  six 
years  to  accomplish  my  object.  I  soon  found,  however  that 
I  must  debar  myself  of  the  means  of  acquiring  knowledge, 
or,  sparing  a  pittance  for  this,  I  must  toil  at  least  twehe 
years  before  I  could  be  free.  This,  with  other  difficulties 
which  stood  in  my  way,  caused  me  to  lay  aside  my  plan  as 
impractiblc. 

My  next  effort  was  directed  towards  obtaining  admission 
into  the  band  of  musicians  ;  and  with  this  view,  I  diligently 
persevered  in  my  musical  studies ;  hoping  thereby  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  officers,  and  gain  my  object.  Just 
as  I  began  to  make  considerable  progress,  I  was  sent  for 
by  Captain  Pierce,  to  act  as  his  servant — a  situation  which 


f 


lii 


III 


88 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIOHTON. 


Becomes  an  officer's  servant. 


Culinary  misfortunes. 


at  first  seemed  to  promise  me  some  amelioration  of  condi- 
tion. But  I  soon  found  that  it  was  but  another  form  of  a 
oldier's  life,  full  of  bitterness  and  discomfort.  My  tasks 
were  arduous  and  difficult,  and  my  rest  continually  broken 
by  sitting  up  until  a  late  hour  for  my  master,  who  seldom 
returned  from  his  revels  until  midnight ;  or  else  he  had 
company  at  home,  where,  regai-dless  of  the  claims  of  mo- 
rality and  religion,  they  would  carouse  and  gamble,  noisy 
as  bedlamites,  until  a  late  hour. 

The  captain  possessed  a  taste  for  show,  that  led  him  to 
spare  neither  pains  nor  expense  for  the  attainment  of  any 
object  of  desire ;  he  required  the  nicest  attention  to  his 
wishes,  which  I  endeavored  to  meet  with  the  utmost  promp- 
titude and  carefulness,  except  that  I  made  but  an  indiffer- 
ent cook  ;  this  frequently  brought  me  into  trouble,  as  I  had 
to  prepare  his  breakfast  every  morning,  and  occasionally  a 
supper  for  his  guests.  One  day  he  gave  me  a  beefs  tongue 
to  prepare  in  a  particular  manner  for  his  breakfast  the  fol- 
'•^wing  morning.  With  great  care,  the  tongue  was  prepared 
and  placed  in  the  oven,  where,  through  my  forgetfulness,  it 
remained  all  night,  and  a  large  fire  Imving  been  kept  under 
it,  it  was  actually  baked  to  a  cinder.  Afraid  to  vex  him 
by  not  placing  it  on  the  table,  I  cut  off  the  burnt  parts  until 
it  was  so  reduced  in  size  and  altered  in  shape,  that  I  felt 
ashamed  to  put  it  before  him.  But  there  was  no  alterna- 
tive ;  so,  placing  it  on  the  table,  I  retired  to  watch  the  mo- 
tions of  its  astonished  consumer ;  he  eyed  it  with  wonder 
and  surprise,  and  seemed  unable  to  divine  its  nature ;  so 
calling  me  in,  he  drew  from  me  a  confused  account  of  my 
harsh  cooking  ;  seeing  my  confusion  and  sorrow,  he  passed 
over  my  offence  with  a  slight  reprimand. 

On  another  occasion,  having  to  make  ready  a  sumptuous 


T 


lit' 


to 


him 

until 

felt 

rna- 

mo- 

ider 

i  so 

my 

ssed 

.lOUS 


1 

T 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


89 


Debasing  influence  of  tyranny. 


repast  for  the  entertainment  of  a  large  party,  my  helpmate 
and  I  had  spread  the  table  with  its  various  luxuries.  Among 
other  things,  were  two  richly  dressed  fowls.  Happening  to 
leave  the  room  a  moment,  we  were  surprised  on  our  return, 
to  find  one  of  them  in  the  possession  of  a  huge  cat,  which 
had  dragged  it  from  the  table  to  the  floor,  and  was  hastily 
tearing  it  to  pieces.  Here  was  an  embarrassment  :  should 
we  throw  it  away,  we  should  incur  censure  or  i)unishment, 
and  probably  both  ;  so  we  cleaned  it  in  the  best  iwssible 
manner,  and  placed  it  on  the  table,  trembling  during  the 
whole  supper-time  for  fear.  Happily  for  us,  the  fowls  were 
not  touched,  and  so  we  escaped. 

These  simile  facts  are  not  related  for  any  importance 
they  possess  in  themselves,  but  merely  to  acquaint  the  rea- 
der, in  some  measure,  with  tlie  painful  state  of  mind  which 
is  produced  by  being  under  despotic  authority,  like  that 
possessed  by  the  officers  in  the  British  army,  and  as  was 
exercised  by  my  master  ;  it  originates  in  a  degrading,  slavish 
fear — a  fear  which,  while  it  produces  the  misery  of  its  sub- 
ject, directly  demonstrates  the  depravity  of  mankind ;  for, 
were  men  upright  and  pure,  this  unhappy  state  of  mind 
would  neither  be  caused  by  tyranny,  nor  felt  by  the  crushed  ; 
inasmucli  as  the  tyrant  and  the  oppressed  would  alike  be 
unknown.  How  destructive  is  such  a  fear  to  the  dignity 
and  peace  of  human  nature !  It  cramps  its  energies,  para- 
lyzes its  powers,  and  mildews  its  principles  of  peace  and 
liberty. 

Circumstances  like  these  kept  my  mind  in  a  state  of  con- 
tinual excitement  and  slavish  fear :  and  although  I  labored 
with  the  utmost  diligence  to  obey  the  commands  of  my 
master,  their  rigidity  was  not  relaxed,  nor  his  aristocratic 
haughtiness  diminished.   Besides  this,  he  allowed  me  no  con^- 


90 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  B.   LIGHT'^ 


I 


Determines  to  desert. 


pensation  for  my  services,  above  my  pay  and  rations  as  a 
soldier.  These  I  received  from  the  barracks  ;  so  that  my 
duties,  though  different  in  form,  were  as  irksome  in  degree 
as  before.  Seeing,  therefore,  but  little  probability  of  obtain- 
ing any  mitigation  of  my  condition,  and  no  prospect  of  be- 
ing freed  from  my  military  servitude  but  by  death,  I  at  last 
resolved  to  escape,  and  risk  the  consequences  of  desertion, 
for  the  probability  of  liberty  and  comfort  in  civil  society. 

There  was  at  that  season  of  the  year,  the  month  of  Feb- 
ruary, a  vast  amount  of  travel  to  the  United  States.  This 
fact  filled  me  with  the  hope  of  being  able  to  obtain  the 
means  of  escape  from  some  one  of  the  numerous  travellers 
engaged  in  commercial  pursuits.  But  upon  reflection  it 
appeared  the  safest  mode  to  trust  no  one  with  my  fate ;  as 
like  my  comrades  before  mentioned,  I  might  be  betrayed. 

About  this  time  my  comrade,  Henry  Apple,  received  his 
discharge,  and  lefl,  with  a  light  heart,  the  scenes  of  his  sor- 
row and  his  toil.  His  departure  raised  my  determination  to 
its  highest  pitch,  and  I  commenced  preparations  for  my  im- 
mediate escape.  My  plans,  however,  were  of  the  most  un- 
justifiable kind.  I  intended  to  take  a  complete  private  dress 
from  my  master's  wardrobe,  and  make  off  upon  a  horse  be- 
longing to  Lieutenant  Colonel  Rumple,  who  lived  under  the 
same  roof  with  my  master ;  and  to  supply  myself  with 
funds,  I  resolved  to  purloin  a  small  sum  from  one  of  the 
officers.  Such  was  my  wicked  resolve,  though  my  conscience 
seriously  contested  the  matter  with  my  understanding* 
I  silenced  it,  however,  by  pleading  the  example  of  two  of 
my  fellow-soldiers,  who  a  short  time  previous  had  deserted ; 
the  one  in  a  full  uniform  of  his  master's,  the  other  in  his 
servant's  dress.  Thus  accoutred,  they  made  off  in  a  linrse 
and  sleigh,  and  passing  for  a  military  officer  and  his  servant, 


i 


LIFE    OF   WILMAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


91 


Unjustitlnlilc  intentions. 


Prepares  to  desert. 


kling- 


they  escaped.  This,  however,  wiis  a  poor  defence  for  dis- 
honesty. There  was  a  sad  want  of  adherence  to  principle 
in  all  this,  and  no  excuse  is  cTercd  to  defend  it;  it  was  un- 
(lualifiedly,  wholly,  totally  wrong.  At  the  time,  however,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  justified  in  taking  any  thing  from 
men  wh.o  took  every  comfort  awny  from  me ;  and  as  to  the 
horse,  I  firmly  resolved  to  leave  it,  when  I  reached  the 
United  States,  in  some  place  of  safety,  and  then  inform  the 
Colonel,  by  letter,  where  he  might  find  him.  But  stern 
morality  and  true  religion  know  of  no  such  excuses.  Ricjht 
is  Right,  and  ought  not  to  be  violated  for  any  consideration 
whatever — no,  not  even  to  save  life.  Death  is  preferable 
to  crime ;  and  he  who  dies  for  virtue  and  duty  gains  honor 
from  the  great  Author  of  his  existence,  which  transcends, 
to  an  infinite  degree,  the  trifling,  temporary  advantages  that 
sometimes  flow  from  crime. 

The  day  arrived  in  which  my  project  was  to  be  executed. 
If  I  succeeded,  a  happy  deliverance  from  my  numerous 
troubles  awaited  me  ;  if  I  failed,  a  deeper  misery  was  my 
certain*  destiny.  Early  in  the  evening,  the  Captain  aijd 
Colonel  Rumple  went,  in  company,  to  participate  in  the 
pleasures  of  a  splendid  ball.  Having  impatiently  waited  to 
hear  the  tattoo  sounded,  which  called  every  soldier  to  the 
barracks,  I  prepared  to  make  my  exit.  At  this  crisis  I  was 
unexpectedly  interupted  by  the  entrance  of  Colonel  R.'s 
servant,  who,  from  my  confusion  and  occupation  at  the  mo- 
ment, evidently  suspected  my  design.  He  tried  to  coax  me 
into  the  servants'  room,  where,  with  the  assistance  of  his 
companion,  he  probably  designed  to  secure  me.  At  least  I 
thought  so,  as  I  knew  he  could  perceive  my  design ;  so  I 
made  him  an  evasive  reply,  and  he  left  the  room.  Watch- 
ing him  as  he  retired,  it  was  pretty  evident  to  me  that  he 


'»>i|.Mi^i«|llilWPJ 


oi 


LIJ^E    OF    AVILLIAM    H.   LlOIItON. 


The  HiispiciouH  xcrviint.  lieHortH.  A  new  enemy.  A  liltter  night. 


was  about  to  make  his  way  to  the  guard,  to  report  me  as  a 
deserter;  knowing  that  he  had  evidence  in  my  pr-^paration 
sufficient  to  convict  me,  there  was  no  ahcrnative  left  but  to 
attempt  my  escape,  or  stay  and  receive  a  deserter's  i)unish- 
men 

That  was  the  decicive  moment,  and  Ifelt  it;  andaUliough 
I  had  not  supplied  myself  with  a  change  of  dress  from  my 
master's  wardrobe,  nor  even  secured  an  outer  garment,  yet 
I  rushed  from  the  house  into  the  stable,  saddled  and  mount- 
ed the  horse,  and  in  a  few  moments  I  was  gallopi)ing  past 
the  barracks,  where  were  the  sentinels  at  their  posts,  and 
the  guard  in  the  guard-room.  Unsuspected  I  hurried  i)ast, 
and  soon  left  master  and  troops  far  in  the  rear. 

But  though  I  had  escaped  the  soldiery,  T  met  another 
powerful  and  cruel  adversary — the  r.npitying,  unrelenting 
cold.  My  dress  was  totally  unlit  for  such  a  night-journey 
amid  the  snows  of  a  Canada  winter ;  it  consisted  of  only  a 
pair  of  woolen  regimental  pantaloons  and  vest,  a  light,  thin 
fustian  jacket,  a  hat,  and  thin  calf-skin  shoes.  Before  I  had 
proceeded  many  miles,  in  spite  of  my  utmost  exertion,  those 
parts  of  my  person  most  exposed  became  stiflt'  and  frozen. 
Sometimes  I  put  my  hands  (for  I  had  no  mittens  or  gloves) 
under  the  saddle,  and  pressed  my  feet  close  to  my  horse's 
sides  ;  then  I  dismounted  and  ran,  but  every  expedient  Avas 
alike  vain ;  the  cold  was  mtense ;  my  feet  and  ears  were 
past  all  feeling  ;  and  though  I  thrashed  and  rubbed  the 
affected  parts,  they  grew  worse  and  worse,  until  I  thought  I 
should  actually  freeze  to  death.  To  seek  shelter  for  the 
night  I  dared  not  for  fear  of  detection,  and  to  stay  out  was 
death.  At  last,  having  lost  my  way,  I  came  to  a  house 
which  appeared  to  have  a  brisk  fire  burning  within.  I 
approached,  stopped  my  horse,  and  after  peeping  through 


I 


^ .    '*ri 


r  night. 


10  as  a 
aratioii 

t  but  to 

;    .v>' 

punish- 

Itlioufrli 

•om  my 

lent,  yet            ' 

I  mount- 

N. ■ 

ing  past 

asts,  and           ^ 

iecl  past,           ! 

.    5 

another 

relenting 

1^ 

>r 


t-journcy 
)f  only  a 
ight,  thin 
ore  I  had 
Ion,  those 
id  frozen. 
;loves) 
ly  horse's 
ient  was 
ars  were 
bbed   the 
thought  I 
;r  for  the 
ly  out  was 
0  a  house 
A'ithin.     I 
ig  through 


/. 


ITFE    OF    WILLIAM   n.    LIfillTON. 


93 


The  c<iuntry  l;ivrrn. 


the  wimlow,  jrsive  a  loud  hoUoo^  at  the  samo  time  putting 
my  horse  in  a  position  to  gnHoj)  off,  should  there  he  any  ap- 
})earan(*e  of  danger  ;  but  seeing  two  men  approaeli  the  door 
jirmed  with  muskets,  and  fearing  that  they  were  some  of 
those  unfeeling,  unprineipled  ehnnieters,  who  make  it  a  part 
of  their  business  to  look  out  for  deserters,  my  fears  took 
alarm,  and  I  rode  olV  at  full  speed. 

Filled  with  fear,  and  harrassed  with  alarm,  T  drove  my 
horse  very  hard,  until  he  became  so  j^ule*!  that  he  could 
hardly  be  fbreed  out  of  a  walk.  Daylight  at  last  appeared, 
and  ended  the  most  painful  night  1  ever  experienced.  T"p- 
on  inquiring  of  a  man  whom  I  met,  he  told  me  it  was  forty 
miles  to  jNIontreal,  and  about  an  equal  distance  to  the  bor- 
ders of  the  United  States.  This  assurance,  and  the  fact 
that  I  was  in  a  by-road,  encouraged  me  to  seek  rest  and  re- 
freshment, of  wliich  I  stood  in  perisliing  need  ;  indeed,  I 
doubt  not  but  that  a  few  hours  longer  of  expo>ure  would 
have  put  an  end  to  my  existence,  and  I  should  have  per- 
ished on  the  roiid.  Accordingly,  coming  to  a  tavern,  I  gave 
my  horse  into  tlie  keeping  of  the  ostler,  and  staggered  with 
much  difficulty  into  the  house,  my  limbs  all  stiffened,  and 
my  jdiysical  powers  benumbed.  Seating  myself  by  the 
tire  I  fell  in'iv>  a  heavy  sleej),  from  which  I  was  s-jun 
awakened  by  the  most  excruciating  pains,  occasioned  by  the 
action  of  the  fire  upon  my  frozen  extremities.  Upon  re- 
moving my  shoes,  my  feet  presented  a  most  pitiable  appear- 
ance, being  almost  entirely  covered  with  blisters,  so  painful 
that  I  could  not  place  my  feet  to  the  ground  without  wring- 
ing out  an  unwilling  groan.  The  family  gathered  round 
me,  not  to  administer  to  my  necessities,  but  to  gratify  an 
ignoble  curiosity,  which  seemed  to  have  no  higher  end  tl.an 
to  rid  themselves  of  what  they  feared,  from  mv  appeara!ice, 

9 


94 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


A  suspicrimi?*  imrty, 


The  cimiiiii}'  landloril. 


miglit  become  a  troublesome  burden  to  them.  They  began 
by  expressing  their  surprise  at  my  unseasonable  dress,  and 
at  my  travelling  in  the  night,  and  so  iar,  as  from  my  looks 
they  supposed  I  liad.  To  these  vexatiouf?  (juestions  I  re- 
plied in  what  I  conceived  to  be  the  best  possible  Avay  to 
avoid  suspicion,  but  in  vain  ;  the  landlord  doubted  my  ve- 
racity, and  sent  for  several  neighboring  gentlemen  who  ex- 
amined me  very  closely.  IJy  this  time  my  pain  had  so  in- 
creased that  I  became  almost  insensible,  and  ansAvered  their 
({uestions  very  incoherently.  One  of  them  aslcing  me  from 
whence  I  came,  I  thoughtlessly  but  truly  replied,  "  From 
Montreal." 

"  From  Montreal !"  exclaimed  half  a  dozen  voices  at 
once,  "  then  he  is  a  deserter." 

"  I  thought  so  from  his  apjicarance,"  said  one  of  the 
tavern  gossips  who  had  just  stepped  in  for  his  morning's 
libation  ;  "  he  looks  plaguy  much  like  a  soldier." 

These  suspicions  alarmed  me,  and  shaking  off  my  stupor, 
I  ])lead  my  case  so  eloquently,  that  most  of  them  Averc 
satisfied  that  I  was  not  a  deserter ;  and  they  Avent  away 
expressing  their  belief  in  my  innocence.  Not  so,  however, 
with  the  avaricious  landlord;  he  fixed  his  hawkish  eye 
upon  me,  and  asked, 

"  Are  you  willing  to  go  back  to  St.  John's  Avltli  me,  Avhcrc 
I  can  enquire  if  such  a  lad  as  you  has  lately  deserted?" 

To  produce  an  impression  of  my  innocency,  I  readily  re- 
plied, "  Yes,  sir,  I  am  perfectly  Avilling,  provided  you  will 
bring  me  back  to  this  ])lace  free  of  expense."  ^ 

"  That  I  Avill  do,"  said  he,  with  a  most  cunning  expression 
of  countenance,  "  if  I  find  you  are  no  deserter." 

This  was  a  death  blow  to  all  my  hopes.  To  be  carried 
to  St.  John's  was  to  be  detected,  for  a  company  belonging  to 


I 


4 


LIFE    OP   "VTILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


95 


Avnrico  hnnlens  the  henrt. 


Sinfulness  of  covetousness. 


began 

•,s,  and 
r  looks 
s  I  i*e- 
^vay  to 
ny  ve- 
vho  ex- 
1  so  in- 
c(l  their 
nc  from 
"  From 

oicea  at 

c    of  tlio 
lornings 

y  stupor, 
em  ^verc 
nt  away 
lowevcr, 
dsli   eye 


uQ,  wlicrc 
ted?" 
cadlly  rc- 
oa  will 


r 


y 


expression 

)e  carried 
ilonging  to 


my  regiment  Vv'as  stationed  there.  Already  I  felt  that  I 
was  restored  to  my  tyrants,  the  helpless  victim  of  their 
heated  wnitli.  To  escape  was  impossible,  as  I  coald  not 
move  without  assistance.  O,  Avhat  were  the  feelings  of  my 
young  heart  in  that  hour  of  sadness  !  To  conceive  them, 
the  reader  must  fancy  himself  in  my  situation.  Imagine 
yourself  a  poor,  destitute  stranger,  your  limbs  all  sore  and 
blistered,  a  deserter  from  tlie  army,  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel, 
hard-hearted  man,  about  to  deliver  you  up  to  your  regiment, 
where  tlie  punishment — tlie  bloody  and  barbarous  })unish- 
ment — of  tlie  "cf^Y,"  and  perha[)S  death  itself,  awaited  you. 
Imngine  [dl  this,  and  you  will  have  a  faint  idea  of  the  ago- 
nies of  my  afilioted  nnd  bleeding  lienrt. 

Perliaps  it  may  be  well  to  explain  the  cause  of  this  land- 
lord's anxiety  about   my  relation  to  the  army.     It  was  not 
that  he  cared  for  the  interests  of  the  army  ;  but  lie  knew,  if 
I  w'ere  a  deserter,  and  he  could  be  the  means  of  my  being 
delivered  up,  that  a  reward  of  t/firty  dollars  would  pay  him 
for  his  pains.     To  gain  tliis  was  the  object  of  his  ambition. 
For  this  pittance  he  was  willing  to  expose  me  to  the  most 
shameful  of  all  punishments.     Surely,  there  was  no  flesh 
in  his  obdurate  heart.     How  sti'onn;  was  his  love  of  monev  I 
It  triumphed  over  his  humanity,  his  feelings,  his  sympathies. 
But  he   stands  not  alone.     Tiiousands  arc  ruled  by   this 
earthly  nod — Mammon.     At  this  shrine  tliev  are   rea<lv  to 
saerilice  every  thing,  e\'en  to   the  immolaUon  of  a   linman 
being.     "  O,  how  deceitful,  how  deeply  damning  is  tlie  love 
of  money !     AVcU  might  the   heathen  exclaim,  whihi  con- 
templating the  grave  of  one  who  was  murdered   for  his 
wealth,  '  O,  cursed  lust  of  gold !  what  wilt  thou  not  induce 
the  human  heart  to  perpetrate  ?'     Judas  is  deservedly  con- 
sidered as  one  of  the  most  infamous  of  men  ;  his  condufl 


i 


f       1' 

■\4 


*  !     ! 


s  ;  t 


f 


96 


LIFE    OF   "WILLIAM   B.    LlGHTON. 


Arrival  at  St.  John's. 


Detection. 


base  beyond  description,  and  his  motives  vile.  But  alas! 
how  many,  who  censure  his  act,  imitate  him  in  their  lives  ! 
How  many  sell  their  souls  for  a  less  sum  !  IIo,  ye  Judases, 
read  your  doom  ;  learn  your  danger,  wh  n  you  hear  the 
upostle  telling  you  from  God,  that  '  no  unrighteous  man,  nor 
covetous,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,'  From  so 
great  a  curse  may  God  save  every  money-loving,  honor- 
hunting,  pleasure-taking,  thoughtless,  godless  man.'* 

After  partaking  of  some  refreshment,  the  landlord  con- 
veyed me  to  St.  John's,  where  we  arrived  at  two  o'clock, 
P.  M.  He  took  mc  to  an  inn,  and  placed  me  in  charge  of 
its  owner,  while  he  proceeded  to  make  inquiries.  He  soon 
obtained  the  (to  him  [)leasing)  information  that  I  was  a  de- 
serter, and  that  detachments  of  troops  were  busy  scouring 
the  country  in  pursuit  of  me.  The  fact  of  my  detention  he 
soon  communicated  to  the  officers  of  the  company,  and  they 
iiinnediately  sent  a  file  of  soldiers  to  arrest  me ;  in  a  few 
minutes  I  was  in  close  confinement  in  the  guard-house — an 
arrested  deserter.  My  captor  received  his  reward,  and 
A\  ent  home  rejoicing  in  his  fiendish  success ;  he  had  been 
the  means  of  restoring  a  miserable  youth  to  the  dominion 
of  tyrants^  and  of  exposing  him  to  the  infliction  of  the  most 
cruel  and  ignominious  punishment  that  a  man  can  bear ; 
but  no  matter, /ie  had  gained  thirty  dollars  !  The  reader 
will  no  doubt  see  room  to  cast  some  censure  upon  myselt", 
from  want  of  candor  and  for  my  attempt  to  deceive.  No  de- 
fence of  this  conduct  will  be  pretended  ;  it  was  another  great 
tiiratiim  in  my  life.  Truth  should  be  dearer  than  life,  and 
I  ougl.t  to  have  maintained  a  strict  silence  concerning  my 
chara  ter  and  destination,  or  else  have  thrown' myself  upon 
their  clemency  by  a  frank  confession  of  my  condition  and 
desiirns  ;  in  either  case,  I  should  have  certainlv  fared  as 


,t   ', 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM    B.   LIGHTON. 


97 


IiiiportRnce  of  truth. 


Renevolcnce  of  some  soUliers. 


;  alas! 
lives ! 
aclases, 
ar  the 
an,  nor 
rom  so 
honor- 

3rd  con- 
o'clock, 
liarge  of 
He  soon 
vas  a  de- 
scouring 
cntion  li<3 
and  tliey 
in  a  few 
lOUse— an 
ard,   and 
had  been 
dominion 
|f  the  most 
can  bear ; 
|he  reader 
m  mysell", 
e.   Ko  de- 
lother  great 
m  life,  and 
:erning  my 
lyself  upon 
idition  and 
lly  fared  a* 


well  as  I  did  by  duplicity,  and  possibly  better,  for  God 
might  have  honored  my  adliercnce  to  truth  by  softening 
tlie  hearts  of  my  captors,  and  disposing  them  to  facilitate 
my  escape.  But  I  foolishly  followed  the  wisdom  of  the 
carnal  heart,  and  God  justly  turned  it  into  foolishness ;  he 
destroyed  iny  plans,  despite  of  my  cunning  ;  but,  blessed 
be  his  name,  I  am  still  the  gainer  ;  for  it  has  taught  me,  in 
my  more  experienced  years,  to  place  a  just  estimate  on 
fruth  and  falsehood.  lie,  who  adheres  to  truth  at  the  ex- 
pense of  all  bc-ide  that's  earthly,  is  still  the  gainer,  for 

"  Every  linr  phnll  his  portion  have, 
Among  the  cursed  without  the  gates  of  life." 

The  soldiers  of  the  company  treated  me  with  much  kind- 
ness and  sympathy.  The  lieutenant,  who  commanded  the 
station,  also  visited  me  in  my  wretchednes ;  his  aspect  was 
mild  and  pitiful,  and  his  language  kind ;  upon  retiring  he 
sent  me  some  food  from  his  own  table — a  relief  that  came 
very  opportunely  to  meet  my  crying  necessities.  These 
acts  of  kindness  were  the  more  necessary,  inasmuch  as,  by 
reason  of  my  frozen  condition,  I  was  unable  to  help  my- 
self; they  were  equally  une5'pected,  and  I  thought  that 
even  a  soldier's  life  might  be  made  tolerable  with  such 
oflicers  as  the  one  I  saw,  and  that  my  fate  might  be  more 
mild  if  it  rested  in  the  hands  of  such  men ;  instead  of 
which,  I  was  soon  to  be  in  the  power  of  men  of  hard  hearts 
and  tyrannizing  spirits,  who  thought  no  punishment  to<» 
severe  for  those  who  had  violated  their  lordly  commfi.ids. 
At  night,  the  soldiers,  seeing  my  destitution  of  clothing, 
spread  their  great  coats  out  for  my  bed,  and  the  lieutenant 
sent  me  an  article   or  two  of  bedding.     Then  I  strove  to 

compose  my  pained  body,  and  also  to  calm  the  perturbation 

(J* 


r 


■I 


M 


i.  i 


r 


t\. 


i)8 


LIFE    OF  WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


Is  carried  a  prisoner  to  MontreHl. 


Astonishment  of  comrades. 


of  my  mind,  which  was  on  the  rack  of  dark  and  sorrowful 
anticipation. 


thus 


Musing  o'er  sorrow's  fount,  silent 

I  gazed  upon  the  gloomy  past  ; 

Till,  worn  with  watching,  I  sought  the  aid 

Of  gentle  sleep.     I  slept,  and  felt  refreshed. 

The  morning's  dawn  witnessed  busy  preparations  for  m}" 
conveyance  back  to  Montreal ;  and  immediately  after  break- 
fast I  received  orders  to  be  ready  for  the  journey.  Having 
wrapped  my  feet  in  some  rags,  and  drawn  on  some  okl  stock- 
ing legs  to  serve  me  for  shoes,  I  borrowed  a  soldier's  outside 
coal,  and  then  taking  my  shoes  in  my  hand,  my  preparations 
were  conij^leted.  About  8  o'clock  they  marched  me  to  the 
stage  office,  between  a  file  of  guard,  arme<l  with  drawn 
swords  ;  this  short  walk  I  performed  Avith  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty, my  feet  being  so  extremely  sore. 

The  guard  and  myself  were  soon  seated  in  the  stage,  and 
we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  which  was  almost  as  painful 
as  that  of  the  fatal  night  of  my  desertion,  in  consequence  of 
the  cold  striking  to  all  the  frozen  parts,  and  producing  the 
most  agoniking  sensations.  Nor  was  my  mind  less  pained 
than  my  body  ;  as  we  drew  near  the  scene  of  my  trial  and 
future  affiictions,  it  seemed  to  me  like  an  entrance  within 
the  bloody  Avails  of  the  S[)anirih  inquisition  ;  for  I  expected 
no  more  mercy  than  the  poor,  ill-fated  heretic  who  falls  under 
the  fierce  wrath  of  those  earthly  fiends,  who  torment  their 
victims  in  those  dark  and  doleful  cells.  When  we  arrived 
at  Montreal,  I  was  unable  to  walk  ;  so  they  placed  me  on  a 
lumber  sled,  and  carried  me  from  the  stage  to  the  barracks, 
about  a  mile  in  distance.  One  of  my  particular  friends 
happened  to  stand  sentry  at  the  gate ;  at  my  approach  he 


U 


r, 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.    LIGIITON. 


99 


owful 


for  my 
r  break- 
Having 
lcI  stock- 
5  outsitle 
>aration^ 
.e  to  the 
th  drawn 
aost  diffi- 

^tage,  and 
13  painful 
qiicncc  ot 
ucing  the 
ss  pained 
trial  and 
-ico  within 
expected 
falls  under 
ment  their 
e  arrived 
d  me  on  a 
barracks?, 
lar  friend? 
,proach  he 


Committed  to  the  main  guard. 


turned  ghastly  pale,  and,  as  if  thunderstruck,  he  could  not 
utter  a  word,  so  strong  was  his  emotion  at  beholding  my 
condition.  I  was  soon  placed  in  the  guard-room,  a  prisone*.' 
under  strong  guard.  Here,  the  adjutant  visited  me  in  a  few 
moments,  expressing  his  surprise  at  seeing  me,  as  they  had 
not  heard  of  my  detection  until  my  sudden  arrival  among 
them.  He  informed  me  that  my  crime  was  one  of  higli 
magnitude  ;  that  it  was  iinpardonahle  ;  that,  standing  char- 
ged with  two  crimes,  desertion  and  horse-stealing,  my  pun- 
ishment would  in  all  probability  be  death  ! 

My  case  was  soon  reported  to  the  commanding  officer, 
Colonel  Andrews,  wlio  made  out  an  order  for  my  immediate 
commitment  to  the  main  guard ;  to  this  place  I  was  imme- 
diately marched,  hand-cuffed,  and  guarded  by  a  strong 
detachment  with  drawn  swords.  A  lar2;e  number  of  mv 
anxious  comrades  followed  in  our  rear,  drawn  together  by 
curiosity  or  sympathy,  to  witness  my  incarceration.  Know- 
ing that  none  but  the  very  worst  of  characters,  the  most 
desperate  cases,  were  consigned  to  this  wretched  i>lace,  it 
was  to  me  as  the  signing  of  my  death-warrant. 

INIy  new  abode  was  the  very  perfection  of  misery.  It 
contained  nothing  cheering  to  a  prisoner's  desponding  heart. 
Here  I  was  left  without  comj)anions  or  fire,  my  limbs  yet 
sore  and  stiff,  to  await  a  trial  that,  perchance,  might  consign 
me  to  a  shameful  and  premature  grave.  How  often  and 
how  deeply  did  I  sigh  over  the  remembrance  of  the  check- 
ered past !  and,  as  I  turned  my  chafed  and  agonized  limbs 
in  vain  attemi)ts  to  rest  on  the  hard  floor  of  my  dungeon, 
the  warm  tear-stream  rolled  freely  down  my  cheeks — the 
outward  demonstrations  of  the  inward  grief  I  felt  for  the 
folly  of  my  earlier  days.  O,  how  I  wished  that  I  had  been 
obedient  to  my  parents'  wishes  ;  that  I  had  been  contented 


I 


M: 


i 


100 


LIFE    OE*   WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


A  friend  in  need. 


The  doctor. 


A  tyrant's  visit. 


to  await  their  pleasure,  and  follow  the  direction  of  their  lips. 
But  these  were  fruitless  sorrows ;  they  undid  nothing ;  they 
merely  afforded  momentary  relief  to  my  pent  up  feelings. 

Low  as  I  had  fall'^n,  Providence  did  not  cease  to  watch 
for  my  weal,  but  raised  up  for  me  an  unexpected  friend, 
whose  intercessions  prociired  me  some  sliglit  mitigation  of 
my  troubles.  That  friend  was  Lady  Fitzgerald,  who,  hear- 
ing of  my  situation  and  of  my  youth,  obtained  the  removal 
of  my  handcuffs,  and  permission  for  me  to  sleep  in  the 
guard-room ;  also  tlie  privilege  of  warming  myself  by  the 
lire  during  the  day.  The  doctor  of  the  regiment,  too,  paid 
me  a  visit,  and  examined  my  wounds  ;  but  liis  good  inten- 
tions were  frustrated  by  the  harsh  and  bungling  manner  of 
the  servant  whom  he  sent  to  dress  my  limbs.  He  handled 
me  as  if  I  were  a  brute,  and  caused  me  more  pain  than  re- 
lief— an  evil  I  was  compelled  to  submit  to  with  all  patience. 

Captain  Pierce,  my  offended  master,  was  my  next  visitor. 
He  came,  bearing  a  countenance  whose  workings  besjwke  an 
angry  soul  within.  He  saluted  me  with  the  most  impious 
threats  and  awful  imprecations  imaginable ;  which,  had  he 
been  able  to  execute  them,  would  have  chained  me  to  the 
lowest  abyss  of  hell.  Of  these  I  thouglit  that  they  were 
but  noisy  breath.  Said  he,  "  I  have  not  the  least  pity  for 
you  ;  you  may  expect  that  no  mercy  shall  be  shown  you ; " 
and  then,  uttering  a  fearful  oath,  he  added,  "You  shall  suffer 
death,  you  villain,  that  you  may  be  held  up  as  a  warning  to 
others  ;  and  had  I  overtaken  you  on  the  night  of  your  de- 
sertion, I  would  have  shot  you  dead  on  the  spot  !  /" 

After  this  most  Christian  and  manly  exhibition  of  his 
inward  feelings,  this  courageous  soldier  left  me  to  my  prison 
and  my  reflections.  O,  what  may  not  such  tyrannic  mons- 
ters expect,  when  God  comes  to  judgment  I 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.    LIGIITON. 


101 


A  providentinl  mistake. 


watch 
friend, 
ition  of 
3,  liear- 
•cmoval 
in  llic 
by  the 
00,  paid 
,d  inten- 
anncr  of 
handled 
than  re- 
patience, 
ct  visitor, 
(spoke  an 
impious 
I,  had  he 
[lie  to  the 
Ley  were 
pity  for 
m  you ; " 
liall  suffer 
jarning  to 

your  de- 

» 

ton  of  his 
my  prison 
Inic  mons- 


Proud  tyrants,  tremble  !  for  a  weight  of  woe 

Hangs  in  dork  storm-clouds  of  tremendous  ire 

O'er  your  devoted  souls.     Black  I  black  with  dismal  wrath 

It  spreads  its  awful  gloom  around  your  heads, 

Soon,  soon  to  burst.     Then,  horrible  confusion  ! 

Dismay  unutterable  !  keen  anguish,  and  vengeance 

Such  as  beings  infinite  inflict. 

Shall  fill  your  reeking  hearts.     The  piercing  cries 

Of  beings  immolated  by  your  lordly  hands, 

Shall  howl  confusion  in  your  frighted  ears, 

And  writhe  your  souls  with  everlasting  woe ! 

It  is  a  cheering  thought,  that  the  designs  of  men  are  often 
happily  prevented  by  the  interposition  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence, whose  overruling  arm  is  ever  stretched  forth  for  the 
accomplishment  of  its  own  designs  of  forbearance  towards 
guilty  man ;  of  this  my  experience  affords  a  striking  illus- 
tration. After  my  departure,  on  the  night  of  my  desertion, 
the  servant,  as  I  suspected,  hastened  away  to  give  the  alarm  ; 
instead  of  going  to  the  guard-room,  he  went  first  to  my 
master  at  the  ball ;  this  gave  me  sufficient  time  to  elude 
their  pursuit  that  night ;  had  he  gone  direct  to  the  guard- 
room, it  is  probable  my  route  would  have  been  discovered ; 
and,  as  the  soldiers  pursued  me  with  loaded  rifles  and  pistols, 
it  is  more  than  probable  they  would  have  shot  me.  That 
slight  misstep  of  the  servant  rescued  me  from  death,  and 
gave  me  subsequent  time  for  repentence.  Thus  I  have 
abundant  reason  to  praise  Almighty  God  for  his  goodness  in 
so  ordering  an  apparently  trival  event,  that  it  became  the 
means  of  saving  my  life,  and  also  of  saving  my  immortal 
soul ;  for  had  I  perished  then,  I  should  have  perished  in- 
deed. My  soul,  all  stained  with  its  unpardoned  offences, 
would  have  sunk  deep  in  perdition's  depths, 


"  To  wail,  to  weep,  and  die  '  " 


■KM 


MM 


102 


LIFE  OP    "WILLIAM    B.   LIGHTON. 


' ' 


ti 


Removal  from  the  mnln  gimrd.        Carried  to  jiiil.         A  misornlile  company. 

After  remaining  for  several  days  imprisoned  in  the  "main 
guard,"  enduring  intense  agony  of  both  body  and  mind,  I 
v/as  informed  of  the  intention  of  the  officers  to  commit  me 
to  the  city  prison.  Soon  after  this  intelligence,  a  non-com- 
missioned officer  and  two  privates  brought  me  my  clothes, 
and  said  it  was  tlieir  orders  to  conduct  me  to  the  civil  prison. 
The  reason  assigned  for  this  was,  that  the  military  law  could 
take  no  cognizance  of  horse-stealing ;  consequently,  I  was 
to  be  delivered  up  to  the  civil  magistrate  for  trial  and  pun- 
ishment, and  then,  if  my  penalty  ivere  less  than  death,  after 
it  was  endured,  I  was  recognizable  for  the  act  of  desertion. 

At  first,  the  thonglit  of  this  change  raised  a  gleam  of 
hope ;  but  an  after-thought  restored  all  my  former  gloom* 
The  British  law,  at  that  time,  punished  horse-stealing  with 
deatli.  But  even  here  was  some  small  relief;  for  who 
would  not  prefer  death  to  the  ignoble  and  debasing  infliction 
of  the  bloody  lash  ?  Still  I  felt  my  whole  soul  painfully 
exercised  when  I  was  ushered  into  the  cold,  damp  prison  of 
Montreal.  The  harsh  grating  of  the  heavy  iron  doors,  the 
massive  iron  bolts  and  bars  that  secured  them,  and  the 
sombre,  dungeon-like  aspect  of  the  whole  building,  struck 
an  indefinable  chill  over  my  shrinking  frame  ;  but  there 
was  no  retreat. 

My  companions  in  this  abode  of  crime  were  of  the  low- 
est order,  the  very  debris  of  society,  who  seemed,  by  long 
continuance  in  crime,  to  have  almost  blotted  out  their  hu- 
manity, and  to  have  received  the  image  of  the  arch-fiend 
himself  in  its  stead.  Here  I  endured  hunger  and  privation 
without  relief,  until  my  heretofore  robust  frame  began  to 
yield  under  its  accumulated  deprivations,  and  threatened  a 
speedy  close  to  my  sorrows  by  dissolution.  As  it  was,  it 
prod.  ;ed  a  weakness  which  the  lapse  cf  many  years  did  not 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM    B.   LIGIITON. 


103 


e  "main 
min«lj  I 
nmit  me 
lon-com- 

clotlieB, 
n\  prison, 
law  couUl 
ly,  I  was 

and  puu- 
eath,  after 

acsertion. 

ffleam  of 
ner  gloom- 
baling  witli 
f;  for  wlio 
,ig  infliction 

li  painfully 

,p  prison  of 
doors,  the 

in,  and  tlie 
ing,  struck 
bnt  tliere 

I  of  tlie  low- 
led,  by  long 
lit  their  lui- 
|e  arch-fiend 
Vd  privation 
_ie  began  to 
Lreatened  a 


Fri«! 


IKiM  III    lieol 


OcciipHtloii  in  prison. 


^s  it  was, 


it 


k-ars  did  not 


wholly  remove.  At  last,  I  made  an  appeal  to  the  liberality 
of  iny  regiment.  They,  with  true  nobility  of  soul,  com- 
menced a  subscription  for  my  relief;  but  the  cjiptuin,  hear- 
ing of  their  intention,  meanly  forbade  their  raising  a  single 
copper.  Thus,  with  ineoneeivable  littleness  of  soul,  did  this 
malicious  man  carry  out  his  threat,  "that  I  should  be  shown 
no  merrv  at  all." 

Again,  however,  despite  the  malice  of  my  master,  did  an 
ever-watehful  Pi'ovidenee  raise  me  u])  a  friend  in  my  hour 
of  exti'eniity.  Mr  AVeidenbecker,  a  gentleman  who  knew 
me  when  I  was  Ca})tain  Pierce's  servant,  had,  at  that  time, 
formed  a  favorable  opinion  of  my  character,  and  conceived 
a  strong  personal  attachment  for  me.  lie  discovered  the 
true  reason  of  my  indiscretion  ;  he  traced  my  a]tparent 
crime  to  a  hatred  of  despotism,  rather  than  to  a  Avantomiess 
of  character,  or  a  depravation  of  moral  principle  ;  .and,  while 
lie  Avas  decided  in  his  condenniation  of  the  crime  itself,  vet 
he  was  vather  disj)osed  to  pity  than  to  condemn.  From 
him  I  received  occasional  su])i)lies  of  food,  as  also  from  otlicr 
persons,  whom  he  interested  in  my  behalf,  lie  promised  to 
secure  me  all  necessary  assistance,  and  to  testify  to  my  ])rc- 
vious  character  at  my  trial,  Avhich  was  expected  to  come  on 
tlie  ensuing  spring.  Those  tokens  of  friendship  were  well 
adapted  to  afford  me  comfort,  and  to  ameliorate  my  condi- 
tion ;  but,  notwithstanding  all  these  helps,  I  had  much  to 
endure,  and  much  to  snfTer. 

As  I  i-ecovered  from  my  lameness,  I  turned  my  mind  to 
reading  and  study,  especially  to  music.  The  latter  study 
however,  was  soon  forbidden  by  the  jailer,  who  had  a  strange 
distaste  for  all  kinds  of  mnsic  ;  but,  being  a  pious  man,  he  sup- 
plied me  with  an  abundance  of  religious  books,  to  the  read- 
ing of  which  I  applied  wuth  persevering  industry.     In  this 


^i 


1^  I 


fe   I 


KlndncKM  of  tho  Jailor. 


LIFE   OP   WILLIAM   n.   LlOHTOK. 


SusiMinso. 


way  I  formed  a  taste  for  reading  and  study,  which  has  re- 
mained with  me  ever  since,  and  which  lias  l)ccn  of  peculiar 
advantajL^e.  Thus  from  the  most  discournf^in;^  ])arts  of  hu- 
man ex[)erience  fruits  are  sometimes  plucked  which  prove 
to  be  tho  most  rich  and  ]»roiitable  of  our  whole  lives. 

AVhile  my  studious  hal)its  [deased  the  jailer,  they  excited 
the  indignation  of  my  fellow-pri.<oners,  who,  in  conseiiuence. 
treated  me  so  rudely  that  I  was  comi>elled  to  petition  for  a 
removal  to  a  sei)arate  apnrtment.  To  this  request  the 
jailer  kindly  con.sented,  and  gave  me  a  [>U'{i.«ant  room  in 
the  front  part  of  the  pri,,jn,  where  I  had  a  full  view  of  the 
street  and  market-place. 

As  the  time  of  my  trial  api)roached,  I  became  extremely 
impatient,  my  mind  being  continually  on  the  rack  of  tortur- 
ing suspense  concerning  my  destiny.  But  the  time  came. 
and  my  accusers  did  not  a})pear.  My  case  was  deferred  tor 
six  months,  the  time  for  the  sitting  of  the  next  court.  Thus 
I  was  left  to  be  the  prey  of  doubt,  uncertainty,  and  anxiety, 
through  that  long  period  of  time,  Shortly  after  the  post- 
ponement of  my  trial,  my  regiment  was  removed  to  Kings- 
ten,  Upper  Canada.  This  fact  ins]>ired  me  with  a  short- 
lived hope  that  my  accusers  Avould  fail  to  a])pear  against 
me  at  the  next  session  of  tho  court,  and  that  I  should  be 
kept  until  its  third  sitting;  and  then,  through  absence  and 
default  of  witnesses,  be  set  free.  Foolish  thought !  My 
cruel  prosecutors  only  neglected  to  appear  at  the  first 
court,  in  order  to  prolong  my  imprisonment,  and  increase 
my  susi)ense  and  suifering.  Such  mode  of  revenge  be- 
speaks the  ineffable  meanness  of  their  minds ;  gentlemen 
would  have  scorned  such  Ioav  malice  ;  it  was  unworthy  of 
their  profession  and  standing  in  society.  But  how  few  are 
tc-  be  judged  of  by  their  profession  !  Many  a  fool  wears  a 
gown,  and  many  a  coward  carries  a  sword. 


t 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


10^ 


The  trlitl. 


has  !'•'- 
peculiar 
s  of  \n\- 
•h  prove 

s. 

r  excited 

cquencc. 

ion  for  a 

room  in 
cw  of  the 

cxtremoly 
of  tortur- 
imc  oiime. 
pferretl  for 
,rt.     Thus 
lid  anxiety, 
the  post- 
to  Kings- 
Ill  a  sliort- 
lar  against 
sliould  bt' 
|)sence  and 
Ai^Ut!    Uy 
the   first 
Id  increase 
3vengc  be- 
cjentlemen 
Inworthy  of 
low  few  are 
lol  wearfe  a 


I 


Previous  to  the  approach  of  the  next  court,  I  addressed 
a  note  to  a  celebrated  counsellor  in  the  city,  who  visited  mfo^ 
and  promised  to  become  my  advocate.  I  also  prepared  an 
address  to  the  court  soliciting  its  compassion.  At  last,  the 
court  sat ;  my  accusers  arrived  ;  and,  escorted  by  a  strong 
guard  of  constables,  I  was  placed  at  the  bar.  The  solcmni 
ty  of  the  scene,  the  importance  of  my  case,  and  the  haught; 
bearing  of  my  ace  isers,  overwhelmed  me  with  confusion, 
anfl  I  almost  fell  to  the  ground.  I  was  asked  the  question, 
after  the  reading  of  the  charges,  "  Guilty,  or  not  guilty  ?" 

AVith  a  faltering  voice,  I  responded,  "  Not  guilty." 

For  some  cause  or  other,  it  was  determined  to  defer  my 
trial  until  the  next  day,  and  I  was  ordered  back  to  prison. 

This  seasonable  delay  afforded  me  leisure  to  fortify  my 
mind,  and  to  recover  from  my  confusion.  The  next  day  T 
entered  the  court  with  more  firmness  of  feeling  and  of 
manner.  The  court  was  'crowded  to  excess,  many  persons* 
being  attracted  thither  on  account  of  my  youth,  and  a  deep 
and  thrilling  interest  was  manifested  through  every  part  of 
my  trial.  When  the  jury  was  impanelled,  I  took  care  to 
challenge  all  whose  countenances  were  not  indicative  of 
youth  and  sympathy,  thinking  that  those  who  were  in  thf 
prime  of  life  would  feel  more  interested  in  my  behalf,  and 
decide  under  the  blended  dictates  of  mercy  and  justice. 
Once  I  was  confused,  when  the  lawyer  who  was  to  plead 
my  case  suddenly  went  out  of  court,  and  left  me  to  the 
mercy  of  my  prosecutors  ;  but  the  jailor,  seeing  my  distress, 
whispered  to  me  to  address  the  court  for  an  advocate,  which 
I  did,  and  gained  my  request. 

The  landlord  who  apprehended  me  was  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal witnesses,  but  he  was  so  altered  I  scarcely  knew  him. 

A  deathlike  paleness  overspread  his  cheeks ;  and,  as  I  af- 
10 


'/I 


:i 


■^1 
n 


»■    < . 


Uf 


li-' 


•k 


^  • 


106 


Lin:  OF  WILL/AM  u.  j.Ki/rroJf. 


Tliu  vurdict. 


KncuurHgeiiiuiit  in  a  tr>iiig  iiioinunt. 


feiwards  Icariird,  ho  died  soon  af'tci*  luy  trial.  An  lioui* 
f»ui?scd  and  all  tlio  Icstiniony  was  given  in  ;  after  my  coun- 
sel had  el()<iuc'ntly  jdeaded  my  caso,  tlie  jnry  received  their 
'■'haige,  and  retired.  Art«;r  a  lew  minutes'  conversation, 
they  returned  their  verdict  oC  guilty,  ai.'conii»ani('d  with  a 
sh'om/  reconnne/tdation  for  inercy. 

Thiri  terrible  aimonncenicnt,  tiiougli  cxj>ectod,  fell  upon 
my  mind  with  great  weight  of  alarm  and  terror.  All  my 
hopes  were  built  on  the  last  words  of  the  a  erdict :  "  AV'c 
reconmiend  him  for  mercy."  These  words  rang  in  my  ears 
like  the  soft  symphonies  of  hope  amid  the  lhund(!rs  of  de- 
spair. Still  I  was  pained,  and  I  trembled  like  the  quiver- 
ing aapen.  My  lawyer  observing  my  emotion,  came  to  me 
at  the  bar,  and  said,  much  to  my  encouragement, 

"  Young  man  you  need  not  fear  death,  for  the  jury  have 
done  an  act,  in  recommending  you  for  mercy,  which  will,  in 
apite  of  all  opi>osition,  prove  your  salvation.  No  doubt  you 
will  receive  sentence  of  death ;  put  don't  despond,  for  it 
will  not  be  executed ;  but,  in  the  course  of  a  short  time, 
you  will  be  reprieved,  and  will  probably  have  to  suffer  one 
or  two  years'  imprisonment,  as  the  governor  may  determine." 

lie  then  administered  a  word  or  two  of  ad\ice,  and  leit 
me  with  my  hearty  thanks  for  his  services,  which  Avere  all 
T  had  to  bestow.     I  w^as  then  remanded  to  prison. 

The  session  of  the  court  lasted  several  da3's,  on  account 
of  the  number  of  commitments.  It  resulted  in  the  convic- 
tion of  nine  prisoners  for  capital  crimes,  besides  many 
others  for  petty  offences  and  misdemeanors.  At  the  close 
of  the  court,  myself  and  eight  others 'were  brought  up  to 
receive  sentence  from  the  judge.  To  describe  the  scene  oii 
that  occasion  is  a  task  which  my  pen  is  not  able  to  perform, 
'riion,  every  man's  strength  failed  him  ;  every  countenance 


tit. 


ny  coun- 
cd  tUelv 
•ci'sutioii, 
il   ullli  II 

itU  upon 
All  my 
ict:  "We 
u  my  cars 
icrs  of  ik- 
hc  ciu'ivcr- 
ame  to  mf 

.  jury  lijivf 
licli  will,  in 
>  deubt  you 
lond,  for  i^ 
liort  time, 
suifer  oiu' 
lolenninc." 
•e,  and  left 
ch  were  all 

In. 

|ou  account 
the  convic- 
sidcs  many 
U  the  close 
louglit  up  to 
Ithe  scene  on 
,  to  perform. 
I  countenance 


\ 


\ 


1^ 


|. 


^ 


^ 


^^ 


m 

nmimmmmgmim 


I    f 


(  I 


t 


:-i 


.tL- 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


107 


Receives  s'sntence  of  death. 


Petition  for  mercy. 


betrayed  the  secret  workings  of  the  heart ;  every  fountain 
of  sorrow  was  opened,  and  found  vent  in  floods  of  tears  ; 
the  stout-liearted  trembled,  and  wished  he  had  never  been 
born.  There  we  stood,  in  a  long  mournful  line,  before  the 
judge ;  not  a  word  or  whisper  v.-as  heard  throughout  the 
court-house  ;  all  was  still  as  death.  The  judge  first  in- 
quired if  we  had  any  request  to  make.  In  reph'',  we  all 
fell  upon  our  knees,  and  sued  most  imploringly  for  pardon ; 
to  which  he  briefly  replied, 

"  It  cannot  be  granted  you." 

Tlie  senior  judge  then  arose,  and,  with  much  solemnify 
of  manner,  pronounced  sentence  of  death  upon  us  in  the 
following  words : — 

"  The  sentence  of  the  court  is,  that  you  shall  be  taken 
back  to  the  place  from  whence  you  came,  and  from  thence, 
in  four  Aveeks,  be  conveyed  to  the  place  of  execution,  there 
to  be  hanged  by  the  neck  until  you  are  dead  ;  and  may 
God  Almighty  have  mercy  on  your  souls." 

Notwithstanding  I  had  but  little  apprehension  of  suffering 
this  dreadful  sentence,  yet  I  could  not  hear  it  so  solemnly 
pronounced  upon  me  without  the  most  heart-sickening  sen- 
sations. True,  I  affected  indifference,  but  a  deathish  weight 
hung  lound  my  heart;  my  blood  involuntarily  chilled  as  it 
coursed  along  its  channels,  and  I  could  not,  Avith  my  might- 
iest effort,  shake  ofl*  my  fears.  Afler  hearing  this  sentence, 
we  were  conducted  to  the  prison,  loaded  Avith  irons,  and 
throAvn  into  the  condemned  cells,  to  which  none  Averc  ad- 
mitted but  the  clergy  and  those  who  had  business  of  the 
highest  importance  Avith  the  prisoners. 

On  the  third  day  after  my  condemnation,  my  friend,  Mr. 
Weidenbecker,  in  company  Avith  another  gentleman,  ca.ne 
to  visit  me.     They  suggested  the  propriety  of  petitioning 


108 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Friendship. 


CliHriicter  of  fellow  prisoners. 


:  t 


.;       I, 


his  excellency  the  Earl  of  Dalhousie,  the  governor,  for  my 
reprieve,  and  offered  to  prepare  it  for  me.  Of  course,  I 
gave  my  assent ;  and,  the  next  day,  Mr.  W.  returned  with  a 
petition  very  ably  drawn  up,  for  my  signature.  After  I  had 
signed  it,  he  added  his  own  name  ;  and,  after  obtaining  the 
signatures  of  the  jurors  who  sat  at  my  trial,  he  forwarded  it 
to  the  governor.  Such  was  the  benevolence  of  this  gentle- 
man, and  such  his  strong  attachment  to  me,  that  I  shall  ever 
remember  his  name  with  gratitude.  His  was  a  love  which 
approached  the  nearest  to  disinterestedness  of  any  thing  I 
ever  knew.  He  unexpectedly  became  my  friend  in  the 
gloomy  hour  of  my  adversity,  and  his  friendship  remained 
inviolable.  "What  acquisition  so  precious  as  that  of  a  truo 
friend  ? 

"  Nouffht  is  seen 


More  beautiful,  or  excellent,  or  fair, 

Than  face  of  faihful  friend  ;  fairest  when  seen 

In  darkest  day      And  many  sounds  were  sweet. 

Most  ravishing  and  pleasant  to  the  car; 

But  sweeter  none  than  voice  of  faithful  friend ; 

SNveet  always,  sweetest  heard  in  loudest  storm. 

Some  I  remember,  and  will  ne'er  forget. 

My  early  friends — friends  of  my  evil  day. 

Friends  in  my  mirth,  friends  in  my  misery  too. 

Friends  given  by  God,  in  mercy  and  iu  lovt." 

As  it  may  not  be  disagreeable  to  the  reader,  I  will  give  a 
brief  description  of  the  character  and  feelings  of  my  fel- 
low-prisoners while  under  condemnation,  and  in  expectation 
of  a  speedy  and  violent  death.  Seven  of  our  number  ',«rere 
Roman  Catholics,  natives  of  Canada,  except  one,  who  was 
a  South  American.  These,  in  the  early  part  of  their  con- 
finement, Averc  extremely  profane  and  disgusting  in  their 
manners  and  conversation — a  consequence,  however,  which 


IIPE    OF    WILLIAM    B.   LIGHTON. 


109 


A  religions  Visitor. 


,  for  my 
course,  I 
•d  with  a 
:er  I  had 
ining  the 
^vardcd  it 
is  gentle- 
shall  ever 
)ve  whieh 
ly  thing  1 
nd  in  the 
remained 
i  of  a  truo 


will  give  a 
1  of  my  fel- 
^xpectation 
Inibei'  wevG 
who  was 
their  con- 
Ini;  in  their 
Uer,  which 


very  naturally  followed  from  the  faith  they  professed.  If 
they  sinned,  they  found  a  ready  salvo  for  a  guilty  oonscienet' 
in  confession  to  a  priest,  who,  poor  man  !  pretended  to  for* 
give  them  offences  committed  ngainst  the  holy  and  infinite 
Jehovali.  The  other  was  a  Protestant,  a  mulatto,  from  tlic 
United  States,  whose  demeanor  was  more  serious  and  con- 
sistent. We  were  visited  daily  by  Catholic  priests,  to 
whom  their  adherents  paid  great  reverence  and  attention. 
A  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  labored  among  w- 
daily,  striving  to  instruct  lis  in  the  wisdom  of  the  gospel,  and 
to  impress  our  minds  with  the  importance  of  obedience  t(» 
its  precepts.  But  we  understood  little  about  the  vitality  of 
religion,  or  of  its  operation  upon  the  heart.  For  ray  own 
part,  although  I  had  received  some  knowledge  of  God  in 
my  early  life,  yet  I  had  supposed  that  a  strict  attention  to 
morality  was  all  the  Bible  required.  True,  I  knew  that 
the  blessed  Jesus  had  suffered  death  ;  but  for  what,  or  for 
whom,  I  scarcely  knew.  Hence,  when  questioned  about 
faith  and  repentance,  my  answers  only  served  to  expose  my 
utter  ignorance  of  the  subject.  This  discovery  of  our  moral 
blindness  led  the  clergyman  to  spare  no  efforts,  time,  or  pains 
to  pour  instruction  into  our  dark  and  benighted  minds,  seri- 
ously and  earnestly  exhorting  us  to  attend  to  the  salvation 
of  our  precious  souls.  He  pointed  out  the  true  and  living 
way,  with  simplicity  and  affection,  and  engaged  in  the 
most  fervent  prayer  for  Jehovah's  blessing  upon  his  labors. 
This  faithful  application  of  divine  truth  produced  many 
serious  reflections  upon  death,  sin,  and  my  own  personal 
guilt ;  but,  except  this,  it  produced  no  immediate  practical 
effect,  though  it  proved  to  be  the  foundation  of  my  subse- 
quent conversion  to  God.  His  labors,  how^ever,  were  not  lost 

upon  the  more  tender  mind  of  the  mulatto  j  he  became  pow- 
10* 


no 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


L-^ttnr  from  an  old  friend. 


Elfect  of  n  friend's  ppistle. 


•  !■ 


I 


fi      I 


! 


I 


erfully  convicted,  and,  beginning  to  call  on  God,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  soon  found  a  present  and  glorious 
salvation  in  the  Redeemer's  precious  blood.  During  thf 
remainder  of  his  short  existence,  he  gave  the  most  undeni- 
able evidences  of  the  soundness  of  his  conversion  ;  truly, 
he  was  a  "  brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire." 

While  under  sentence  of  death,  I  received  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Apple,  my  former  comrade,  who,  as  the  reader  will 
remember,  had  recently  obtained  his  discharge. 

Ilis  simple  .and  friendly  communication  came  very  oppor- 
tunely»  and  produced  a  favorable  effect  upon  my  mind. 
My  heart  was  sinking  at  the  wretchedness  of  my  fellow- 
prisoners,  whose  terrors  increased  daily,  as  the  time  of  their 
execution  approached.  Their  solemn  and  intense  prepaid 
tion  to  meet  their  awful  fate ;  the  perfect  security  of  our 
place  of  confinement ;  but^  above  all,  their  deep  groans  in 
tlie  night  season,  occasioned  by  their  terrific  dreams,  were 
causes  powerful  enough  to  disturb  the  peace  of  one  in  the 
possession  of  liberty — much  more  of  one  who  was  by  no 
means  certain  that  he  would  not  die  a  culprit's  death.  The 
receipt  of  this  letter,  therefore,  was  a  cordial  to  a  fainting 
spirit ;  it  cheered  and  sustained  me  by  awakening  the  pleas- 
ing inspirations  of  hope  in  my  desponding  bosom.  Those 
who  have  been  distressed  know  how  to  appreciate  a  kind 
epistle.  It  comes  a  messenger  of  good,  and  is  prized  as  a 
stream  of  water  by  the  thirsty  Arab  of  the  burning  desert. 

At  length,  the  jailer  entered  our  cell,  bringing  me  the 
welcome  news  of  my  reprieve,  and  promising  me  that  my 
irons  should  be  taken  off,  and  my  lodgings  changed,  the  next 
day.  This  intelligence  made  me  rejoice  without  limitation 
or  degree ;  and,  notwithstanding  my  irons,  I  paced  the  cell 
in  exultation,  and  scarcely  felt  their  weight.     The  same 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    II.    LIGHTON. 


Ill 


tic. 

,  througli 
1  glorious 
uring  the 
it  undeni- 
)P  ♦,  truly» 

etter  from 
eadev  will 

ery  oppor- 
my   mind, 
my  fellow- 
me  of  their 
se  prepiu" 
jrity  of  our 
.p  groans  in 
earns,  were 
one  in  the 
was  by  no 
[cath.     The 
o  a  fainting 
ng  the  pleas- 
,m.     Those 
iciate  a  kind 
prized  as  a 
Ining  desert, 
ing  me  the 
me  that  my 
jed,  the  next 
iut  limitation 
tced  the  cell 
The  same 


Tlio   rrrricvc. 


evening,  the  jailer  removed  mc  to  another  room,  and  I  msla 
no  more  disturbed  v.iili  tlie  j'risoncrn'  melaneholy  groans, 
though  I  slept  but  little  tliat  night  ibr  joy.  In  the  morning, 
my  irons  Avcre  removed,  and  I  took  possession  of  my  old 
apartment  opposite  the  publie  market.  The  joy  I  now  felt 
beggars  my  powers  of  description  ;  had  I  been  wholly  lib- 
erated, I  could  scarcely  have  felt  more.  At  this  distant 
moment,  I  feel  sentiments  of  devotional  gratitude  to  God 
for  his  goodness  and  mercy  in  delivering  mo  from  my  ex- 
posure to  an  ignominious  death.  And  my  humble  prayer 
to  Almighty  God  is,  that  the  young  reader,  seeing  the  evil 
and  danger  of  criminal  conduct,  may  be  persuaded  to  walk 
in  the  path  of  virtue  and  true  happiness.  To  that  path 
Religion  points,  with  mild  and  loving  aspect ;  follow  her 
directions,  dear  young  reader,  and  you  will  escape  suffering 
and  disgrace,  here  and  hereafter,  and  gain  a  brilliant  crown 
gf  immortality  and  bliss. 


mm 


CHAPTER  YI. 


Is  this  the  place  our  forefaihers  nuide  fur  man. " 


;r     i 


A  FEW  days  after  my  reprieve,  the  death-warrant  for  tlie 
execution  of  one  of  the  Canadians  and  the  muhitto  was  re- 
ceived ;  the  remainder  of  the  prisoners  were  reprieved,  and 
brought  into  my  apartment  to  wait  the  governor's  pleasure- 
where  we  rejoiced  together  in  great  glee.  But,  in  the  midst 
of  our  joy,  one  of  our  number  was  thrown  back  into  the 
deepest  despondency  by  the  entrance  of  the  jailor,  who 
informed  him  that  Ms  death-warrant  had  arrived,  and  that 
he  must  be  conducted  back  to  the  condemned  cell  to  await 
his  execution  with  the  other  two.  What  a  sudden  and 
agonizing  change  was  this !  the  more  painful  because  of  the 
momentary  deliverance  which  had  gleamed  like  a  star  of 
night  uponliis  spirit.  The  poor  fellow's  countenance  fell  ; 
he  wrung  his  hands  in  agony,  and  gave  vent  to  his  feelings 
in  accents  of  deep  and  piteous  despair. 

We  all  sympathized  in  his  distress  ;  and,  amid  our  tears 
and  affectionate  farewells,  he  was  conducted  back  to  his 
doomed  abode,  to  join  his  companions  in  death.  The  night 
previous  to  their  execution,  we  were  permitted  to  pay  them 
a  visit.  AYe  found  them,  chained  and  handcuffed,  sitting  on 
their  iron  bedsteads,  engaged  in  acts  of  devotion.  They 
talked  feelingly  and  freely  about  their  views  and  prospects. 
One  of  them  remarked,  with  great  solemnity  of  manner  and 
expression. 

'  I  have  been  looking  from  my  grated  window,  watching 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


113 


The  visit  to  tho  condemned  ce,l. 


Tlin  execution. 


it  for  the 
D  was  re- 
eved, and 
pleasure* 
the  midst 
k  into  the 
jailor,  who 
,  and  that 
^1  to  await 
idden   and 
Luse  of  the 

a  star  of 
lanco   fell ; 

Lis  feelings 

our  tears 
ick  to  his 
rrhe  night 
pay  them 
sitting  on 
^n.     They 
pro?pccts. 
Lanner  and 

L  watching 


the  sun  ;  I  have  seen  it  set  for  the  last  time,  and  before  his 
next  setting  I  shall  be  in  eternity  ; "  t!ien,  pausing  to  wipe 
away  the  falling  tear,  he  added,  "'  I  am  willing  to  suffer,  for 
I  have  an  evidence  that  my  sins  are  all  forgiven,  and  that 
through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ  I  shall  be  saved." 

The  mulatto  was  equally  composed  and  submissive ;  his 
mind  seemed  to  be  scripturally  at  rest ;  he  said  little  except 
in  answer  to  our  questions.  Our  visit  was  a  solemn  one  ;  it 
was  an  efi'cctive  school,  in  which  to  learn  the  awful  results 
of  crime.  Here  were  three,  whose  breaches  of  the  laws  of 
God  and  man  had  reduced  them  to  the  prison-house  of 
death ;  a  few  hours,  and  they  were  to  honor  the  law  they 
had  broken,  by  enduring  its  highest  sanction.  From  the 
edge  of  the  grave  tliey  begged  us  to  take  warning  from  their 
sad  fate,  to  refrain  from  sin,  and  to  live  virtuous  lives.  Then 
they  took  us  each  by  the  hjind,  and  with  much  difficulty  the 
heart-cutting,  mutual  "  good-by  "  was  pronounced  ;  our  feel- 
ings w^ere  all  too  much  choked  by  Glrong  emotion  for  I'reo 
utterance  or  wordy  expression. 

Early  the  next  morning,  tlie  prison  yards  and  every  adja- 
cent spot  were  crowded  with  spectators,  who  came  to  witness 
the  awful,  practical  tragedy  of  three  men  put  to  a  violent 
death.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  victims  were  brought  from 
prison,  and,  with  tottering  steps,  marched  in  solemn  proces- 
sion to  the  drop.  The  ropes  were  then  carefully  adjusted  to 
their  necks,  and  after  the  offering  u)i  of  pra^'cr  to  God  by 
the  clergyman  present,  who,  with  solemn  earnestness,  com- 
mended their  souls  to  God,  the  drop  fell ;  they  struggled  a 
few  moments,  and  all  was  still ;  they  had  gone  to  their  re- 
ward !  Never  did  I  experience  emotions  more  painful  than 
those  which  Averc  excited  in  my  bosom,  as,  from  a  chink  in 
the  wall,  I  gazed  on  the  horrid  reality  here  described ;  and 
I  pray  God  I  may  never  witness  a  similar  scene  ! 


i  1 


•^  ! 


I  f  1 


114 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


A  mysterious  visit. 


The  crimes  for  which  these  unfortunates  suffered  the 
highest  penalty  of  the  law,  were  burglary,  or  liouse-break- 
ing,  by  two  of  them,  who  were  accomplices,  and  stealing 
some  live  stock,  which  Avas  afterwards  recovered,  by  the 
other.  That  their  punishment  exceeded  the  magnitude  of 
their  crimes  is  obvious ;  but  such,  at  that  time,  were  the 
laws  of  Grreat  Britain  and  her  colonies.  Such  severity  is 
not  only  unphilosophical,  but  contrary  to  the  dictates  of 
sound  Christianity.  This,  I  am  happy  to  state,  has  been 
felt  by  the  law-makers  of  my  still  beloved  country ;  some 
important  modifications  have,  within  a  few  years,  taken 
place  in  relation  to  offences  of  a  higher  grade ;  death  is 
now  inflicted  only  for  offences  of  the  most  enormous  fia- 
grancy. 

Th'',  awfully-solemn  feelings  excited  within  us  by  the 
solemnities  just  recorded,  were  soon  worn  off  by  anxiety  for 
our  own  fate.  What  would  be  done  with  us,  was  a  question 
we  could  only  answer  by  conjecture ;  when,  after  a  few 
weeks,  it  was  solved  in  the  following  mysterious  manner. 

It  was  evening,  and  we  were  engaged  in  pacing  our  room, 
and  conversing  about  the  probabilities  before  us,  when  we 
were  suddenly  alarmed  by  a  noise  resembling  the  rattling 
of  chains,  and  the  approach  of  several  feet  towards  our  cell. 
Amazement  and  fear  filled  our  hearts  ;  every  man  turned 
pale  ;  some  expected  that  we  were  again  to  be  brought  under 
our  fatal  sentence,  and  our  reprieve  reversed,  while  a  few 
dared  to  think  that  we  were  about  to  be  taken  across  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  commanded  to  leave  the  country — a  thought 
vain  as  it  was  pleasing.  In  the  midst  of  our  alarm  the  door 
opened ;  a  number  of  men  entered  loaded  with  chains  ; 
without  the  least  ceremony  or  explanation  they  riveted  them 
to  our  limbs ;  this  dor*^^  we  were  ordered  down  the  prison 


i  I 


i  t 


tU'E   Of   AViLLlAM   ft.   LlGllTON. 


Hi 


A  sudden  rcniovul. 


Coiiliiird  for  five  yviirs  in  tiuehor  jail. 


crcd  the 
se-brcak- 

\  stea^i"g 
d,  by  tbc 
initudc  of 
were  the 
severity  is 
dictates  of 
,  has  been 
itry;  some 
;ars,  taken 
e ;  death  is 
3rmons  iia- 

U9  by  the 
anxiety  foi- 
ls a  question 
after  a  few 

manner, 
no-  our  room, 
,s,  when  we 
the  rattling 
i'ds  our  cell, 
man  turned 
fought  under 
while  a  few 
Icross  the  St. 
a  thought 
irm  the  door 
ith   chains  ; 
iveted  them 
|n  the  prison 


stairs,  and  conducted  to  the  yard.     There  wc  found  a  liorsc 

and  cart  in  waiting,  into  which  wc  weie  compelled  to  cl.'mi- 

her  by    our  mysterious    visitors.     AVc   were    then    driven 

through  the  main   street  to  the  Avharf,   and  ])ut  on  hoard  a 

steamboat,  which  immediately  started  I'or  (Quebec,  leaving  up? 

in  wonder  and  astonishment.     Our  fruitful  fancies,  liowevei', 

put  an  explanation  upon  this  strange  movement,  and  inclined 

us  to  the  belief  that  wo  were  about  to  be  conveved  to  ller- 

muda,  or  some  other  foreign  port,  imtil  our  jailor,  avIio  wa.? 

one  of  our  attendants,   informed  us  that   avc   were  all  sen- 

lenced   to  five  years'  hard  labor  in  Queb(>c  jail,  to  which 

place  he  was  now  conducting  us  by  order  of  the  governor. 

At  Three  Rivers  the  boat  stopi)ed  and  took  in  another 

prisoner,  who  was  under  the  same  sentence  with  ourselves ; 

and,   after  foi'ty-eight  hours'   sailing,  we  arri\ed  at  Quebec. 

Our  future  jailor  soon  came  on  board;  having  ascertained 

our  numbers,  he  left  us,  and  speedily  returned  with  a  horse- 

itavt,  in   which  wc  Averc  carried  to  our  new  abode — a  most 

gloomy  and  Ibroidding  place.     Passing  through  the  main 

entry,  Avhich  Ava3  closely  guarded  Avith  inm  gates  and   huge 

wooden  doors,  avc  ascended  a  flight  of  steps,  and  traversed 

a  dismal  passage  to  a  room  in  the  north  part  of  the   prisf)n. 

desiiijnated  "  the  Avork   house ;"  here  avc  Avere   I'oceived   1)a- 

several    companions    in    distress   and    confinement,    Avhose 

wretched  looks  and  language  bespoke  our   sympathy  and 

felloAV-feelinix. 

Here  avc  Averc  visited  by  the  turnkey,  accompanied  by  a 
blacksmith,  Avho,  to  our  no  small  satisfaction,  relieved  us  of 
our  irons,  which  had  already  produced  several  sAvollen  legs 
and  sove  hands  among  us.  Our  apartment  AAas  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  in  this  disagreeable  prison ;  it  afforded  us  a 
view  of  the  street,  and  of  the  soldiers'  barracks,  the  liveli- 


I 


'  H 


1(1 


'     i      il 

liliM  1 


ti. 


I 


!l 


116 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM    D.    LIGIITON. 


Thn  trend-wlifol. 


Sulli  rill?  of  tho  |tri.soner«. 


ness  of  which  t(MKkd  much  to  miti^iato  the  loneliness  of 
prison  life.  lUit  the  jailer,  fearin^^i;  we  ::hould  cscnpe,  soon 
deprived  us  of  this  jiparlment,  and  coniiiied  us  where  wo 
were  more  secure,  and  so  secluded,  that  we  could  only  fco 
the  sentinel  as  he  paced  up  and  down  at  his  post  in  tho 
back  yard  of  our  p/rison. 

"We  enjoyed  one  advantage  here  we  did  not  possess  at 
Montreal,  which,  to  us,  was  of  some  value.  Visitors  were 
admitted  every  day  to  the  i)rison,  to  see  those  who  were 
confined  for  petty  offences,  and  who  were  undergoing  an 
impriL^onment  of  a  few  months.  By  this  means  we  were 
able  to  send  out  for  almost  any  article  we  could  purchase. 
On  the  Sabbath  day,  divine  Avorship  was  regularly  per- 
formed in  one  of  the  apartments  of  the  prison — a  privi- 
lege of  which  1  was  careful  to  avail  myself  every  Lord's 
day,  without  an  exception. 

As  before  hinted,  our  imprisonment  was  to  be  connected 
with  hard  labor ;  we  were  therefore  employed  to  break 
stones  for  the  public  streets,  by  means  of  the  tread-wheel. 
The  wheel  upon  which  we  wrought  was  very  large,  and  ad- 
mitted a  number  of  persons  upon  it  at  the  same  time.  It 
was  kept  in  motion  by  means  of  steps  connected  with  the 
shaft,  upon  which  the  prisoners,  whose  weight  propelled  the 
machine,  were  obliged  to  step  with  the  utmost  regularity, 
or  incur  the  risk  of  dislocating  a  leg.  Fortunately  for  us 
this  scheme  did  not  answer  the  expectations  of  the  pro- 
jector, and,  to  our  great  joy,  it  was  laid  aside  ;  thus  we 
escaped  this  very  disagreeable  and  arduous  species  of  labor. 
But,  tliat  we  mi_<i?ht  not  be  idle,  every  man  was  required  to 
pick  thirty  pounds  of  oakum  per  week,  which  was  no  easj 
or  pleasant  task. 

With  our  labor  our  appetites  increased,  and  our  scanty 


I 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B,   LIOnTON. 


117 


liness  of 
pe,  soon 
here  v/o 
only  r<?o 
St  in  the 

possess  at 
tors  were 
vho  were 
'going  an 
we  were 
purchase, 
larly  per- 
— a  privi- 
cry  Lord's 

connected 
{  to  break 
read-wheel. 
nrc,  and  ad- 
:  time.  It 
ed  with  the 
•opelled  the 

regularity, 
itely  for  us 
of  the  pro- 
thus  we 

es  of  labor. 

required  to 

k  us  no  easy 

our  scanty 


A  fruitless  appeal.       Relief  and  dlsappointinent.       The  prisoners  cat  a  cat 

allowance  was  far  from  sufficient  to  supply  their  clamorous 
demands.  One  poimd  and  a  half  of  coariae  bread,  with 
water,  was  our  daily  allowance :  finding  it  insufficient  to 
sustain  nature,  we  immediately  complained  to  the  jailer ; 
informing  him,  with  all  proper  respect,  that  unless  we  had 
more  food,  we  could  not  perform  our  tasks.  lie  replied 
with  civility, 

"  I  cannot  help  you  ;  I  am  not  authorized  to  give  you 
any  more.     You  must  apply  to  the  governor." 

We  therefore  drew  up  a  petition,  setting  forth  our  wants 
and  grievances  in  the  clearest  and  most  forcible  manner, 
and  praying  for  immediate  and  effectual  relief ;  after  sign- 
ing it  in  due  form,  we  sent  it  to  the  governor,  who  paid  no 
attention  to  our  prayer.  We  next  addressed  the  citizens, 
presenting  our  distress  as  we  had  done  to  the  governor,  and 
imploring  them  to  assist  us,  out  of  their  abundance,  with  a 
few  of  the  necessaries  of  life.  This  appeal  was  crowned 
with  success;  for  a  season  we  obtained  substantial  relief; 
but  as  we  continued  our  appeals,  and  solicited  a  continua- 
tion of  these  favors,  our  situation  became  a  matter  of  pub- 
lic notoriety  and  common  conversation,  until  the  officers  of 
the  prison  discovering  that  they  were  likely  to  incur  the 
charge  of  inhumanity  and  hard-heartedness,  published  us 
as  imposters.  Having  more  influence  than  a  party  of  poor 
criminals,  they  were  believed,  and  our  supplies,  as  a  neces- 
sary consequence,  were  cut  off,  and  our  hopes  of  obtaining 
further  assistance  from  that  source  wholly  blasted. 

Such  was  our  distress  for  food,  that,  on  one  occasion, 
when  the  turnkey  happened  to  leave  a  favorite  cat  in  our 
apartment,  which  had  followed  him  in  his  rounds,  some  of 
the  prisoners  immediately  killed  and  cooked  it,  and,  in  less 

than  two  hours,  poor  puss  was  devoured ;  those  who  par- 
11 


118 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAUr    n.    MfinTON. 


I 


Thry  ninko  hKcwi'M. 


Filth  of  tliH  itrimm. 


,   I 


':i!  i 


li 


'il  ,     I    'I! 


I 


!  ! 


II 

ill 

'  { 


■Ui 


r' 


fook  of  tills  (lisgustinuf  luoiil  doclivrcil  it  to  be  ju  suvory  us 
voal.  AVlici'e  is  the  hliish  of  humjuiity  for  such  trcatiuent 
of  uiifortuujite  eriuiinals  sis  slioukl  tlrive  tliein  to  such  ex- 
tremities ? 

We  next  made  skewers  for  the  butcliers,  out  of  part  of 
our  firewood,  for  which  we  received  tlic  offal  of  liie  market, 
such  as  beefs  and  shee[)'s  lieads,  some  of  wliich  woidd  have 
done  no  credit  to  the  carrion  of  the  field.  We,  however, 
d(iVoiired  every  tiling  with  greediness.  This  business  was 
soon  spoiled  by  tlie  competition  of  other  y)iisoners  in  the 
jail,  who,  observing  our  snccess,  adopt(?d  the  same  mode, 
glutted  the  market,  and  thus  cut  ofl'  a  considerable  portion 
of  our  supplies. 

As  I  possessed  some  slight  tast(!  for  drawing  and  painting, 
I  tried  my  snccess  in  productions  of  this  kind,  but  gained 
nothing  but  disappointment,  as  my  pictures  would  not  sell. 
Their  preparation,  however,  served  to  beguile  me  of  my 
grief,  and  to  make  the  stream  of  time  flow  more  smoothly. 

But  the  want  of  food  was  not  our  only  source  of  distress. 
We  suffered  greatly  from  the  cold,  as  our  only  bed  covering 
was  one  blanket  a  man.  Our  dress,  too,  had  become  torn 
and  threadbare,  and  some  of  us  were  so  destitute  as  to  be 
nearly  naked.  Then,  our  prison,  not  being  properly  cleansed 
and  aired,  together  with  our  want  of  proper  food,  had 
caused  us  to  be  infested  with  that  hated  insect  that  "  be- 
comes, in  twenty-four  hours,  a  grandfather" — the  indefatiga- 
ble and  filthy  louse ;  so  that  we  presented  a  spectacle  at 
which  decency  might  shudder,  and  humanity  weep.  But 
we  were  criminals,  and  no  man  pitied ;  it  seemed  as  if,  for 
our  crimes,  we  were  shut  out  from  within  the  pale  of  hu- 
man nature.  No  wonder  that  such  prisons,  become  colleges 
of  vice — high  schools  of  iniquity.     Happily  for  the  pros- 


LIFK    OP    WILLIAM    11.    LIOIITON. 


119 


Hon> 

siivui-y  as 
trcsitincnt 
}  »ucU  cx- 

of  part  of 
ic  market, 
ould  have 
,  however, 
suiess  was 
icrs  in  the 
inic  mode, 
)le  portion 

d  painting, 
but  gained 
Id  not  sell, 
me  of  my 
smoothly, 
.of  distress, 
d  covering 
econic  torn 
te  as  to  be 
y  cleansed 
food,  had 
that  "  be- 
indefatiga- 
pectacle  at 
veep.     But 
d  as  if,  for 
pale  of  hu- 
me  colleges 
»r  the  pros- 


A  cunning  dnvlre. 


It-*  (llTovpry. 


SiilcUln. 


I 


porit^  of  the  United  Statcc,  she  has  prisons  based  on  better 
principles,  and  conducted  as  prisons  should  be — to  reform 
the  prisoner,  and  teach  habits  of  wholesome  industry. 

Despairing  of  relief,  we  determined  to  lessen  our  amount 
of  toil,  by  destroying  portions  of  the  rope  sent  to  us  to  pick 
into  oakum.  We  did  this  by  throwing  it  into  the  common 
sewer  of  the  city,  through  a  drain  connected  with  the 
prison ;  so  that  out  of  thirty  pounds,  we  seldom  returned 
above  one  half.  In  this  way  we  cleared  the  prison  of  the 
article,  and,  for  a  time,  were  left  without  any  labor.  A 
great  failure,  however,  in  the  return  of  oakum,  at  the  end 
of  the  contract,  created  suspicions  that  we  had  destroyed 
it ;  but  as  there  was  no  proof,  our  misconduct  remained  un- 
discovered for  a  time.  But  the  drain  becoming  filled  up, 
the  jailer  inspected  it,  and  found  an  enormous  pile  of  rope 
all  frozen  into  one  solid  mass.  Enraged  at  this  discovery, 
he  told  us  we  should  pick  it  all  out  when  the  spring  opened  ; 
this  threat,  however,  was  never  put  into  effect,  for,  soon  af- 
ter the  thaw  commenced,  and  a  heavy  freshet  carried  it 
down  the  common  sewer  into  the  river,  and  we  heard  no 
more  about  it. 

The  sorrows  and  hardships  we  endured  drove  some  of 
our  number  to  the  verge  of  despair,  and  led  them  to  think  of 
committing  the  awful  and  cowardly  sin  of  suicide  ;  but  they 
were  prevented  by  the  indulgence  of  a  faint  and  lingering 
hope  of  escaping  at  some  favorable  opjwrtunity.  Suicide, 
at  best,  is  but  a  coward's  resort.  Afraid  to  brave  the  ills 
he  sees,  he  shuts  his  eyes  and  madly  rushes  upon  the  diiead, 
unknown  realities  of  an  eternal  scene.  O,  how  awful  must 
be  the  meeting  of  the  Deity  with  that  guilty  spirit  that  rush- 
es, unbidden,  into  his  presence  !  O,  the  fearful  disappoint- 
ment ;  the  endless,  piteous  wreck  of  the  soul  that  strikes  on 


120 


LIFE    OF  WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOJT. 


Letter  from  an  old  friend. 


Designs  of  escape. 


>!  i 


I!  ! 


that  rock  !  Better  far  is  it  to  endure  the  trifling  ills  of  this 
mortal  life,  though  they  press  our  dying  frames  to  death, 
rather  than  to  throw  off  the  soul's  mantle,  and  rush  naked 
and  bloody,  into  eternity. 

About  this  time,  prompted  by  my  urgent  necessities,  I 
wrote  a  plain  statement  of  my  situation  to  my  old  patron, 
Mr.  "W'eidenbecker  of  Montreal.  He  returned  me  a  very 
condescending  and  affectionate  reply,  and  sent  me  the 
names  and  addresses  of  two  of  his  acquaintances  in  Quebec, 
recommending  me  to  write  to  them.  Taking  this  advice, 
I  wrote  to  one  of  them,  who  only  ridiculed  the  idea  of  being 
addressed  by  a  criminal !  Determined  not  to  be  easily  dis- 
couraged, I  wrote  to  him  again,  and  enclosed  Mr.  W.'s  let- 
ter ;  this  communication  produced  a  somewhat  more  favora- 
ble effect ;  he  sent  me  some  food  and  a  dollar  in  money. 

Failing  to  obtain  permanent  relief,  and  our  hard  fare 
and  severe  toil  being  still  continued  without  mitigation,  I 
began  to  despair  of  brighter  days,  and  resolved  to  try  my 
fortune  in  an  attempt  to  escape.  To  effect  this  from  the 
room  of  my  confinement,  was  manifestly  impossible ;  I 
therefore  directed  my  attention  to  another  spot,  that  bade 
fair  to  allow  of  the  execution  of  my  plan.  In  the  upper 
part  of  the  prison  was  a  sort  of  a  store-house,  or  garret, 
where  we  deposited  the  oakum  picked  during  the  week. 
There  were  three  windows  in  thi°  garret,  unprotected  by 
iron  bars,  and  of  easy  access  from  the  inside,  from  which 
some  prisoners  of  war  had  made  ti>eir  escape,  during  the 
bloody  contests  of  the  late  American  wai*.  At  my  weekly 
visits  to  this  place,  I  used  to  open  Ihe  windows  and  look 
down  on  the  free  and  busy  multitude  below ;  and  such  was 
the  excitement  produced  in  my  bosom  at  the  possibility  of 
ftn  escape,  that  on  several  occasions  I  could  scarcely  ro^ 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


121 


Acquiescence  of  prisoners. 


An  unwelcome  intruder. 


3  of  this 
[)  deatliy 
h  naked 

ssities,  I 
I  patron, 
e  a  very 
me   the 
Quebec, 
I  advice, 
of  being 
asily  dis- 
W.'s  let- 
•e  favora- 
lonej. 
lard  fare 
igation,  I 
o  try  my 
from  the 
►ssible ;  I 
ihat  bade 
le  upper 
►r  garret, 
le  week, 
ected  by 
>m  which 
uring  the 
\y  weekly 
and  look 
such  was 
sibility  of 
arcely  ro 


frain  from  making  the  attempt  in  open  day.  To  make  it, 
however,  I  fully  decid<'d  ;  for  if  retaken,  my  situation 
could  scarcely  be  worse  ;  and  if  my  effort  succeeded,  O, 
how  my  mind  revelled  amid  the  sweets  of  that  idea, — liber- 
ty and  subsequent  happiness  might  be  mine.  To  secrete 
myself  among  the  oakum  at  one  of  my  visits  to  the  cham- 
ber, and  at  night  escape  from  the  window  by  means  of  a 
rope,  was  the  plan  which  seemed  the  most  easy  of  accom- 
plishment, and  I  accordingly  adopted  it. 

To  put  it  into  execution,  however,  many  things  wen 
necessary.  One  of  the  most  important  was  the  confidence 
of  my  fellow-prisoners,  and  their  consent  to  keep  my 
absence  from  the  knowledge  of  the  turnkey  a  sufficient 
time  to  permit  my  escape.  So  I  spread  out  my  plan  before 
them,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  solemn  pledge  of  secre- 
cy, though  they  thought  it  a  very  daring  attempt,  as  the 
window  was  four  stories  from  the  ground,  and  as  a  very 
trifling  mishap  might  cost  me  my  life.  But  I  thought  that 
the  prospect  of  liberty  was  a  weight  of  sufficient  magnitude 
to  throw  into  the  scale  against  the  possibility  of  losing  a 
miserable  life  ;  and  I  told  them  that,  at  all  events,  with  their 
permission,  I  would  try. 

The  next  time  we  carried  oakj-m  to  the  chamber,  I  sut- 
cedcd,  amid  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  the  occasion,  in 
secreting  myself  beneath  the  piles  of  oakum  it  contained  ; 
the  prisoners  retired,  and  now  thought  I,  "  all  is  well ;  it 
will  soon  be  dark,  and  I  will  be  off  from  this  dismal  hole." 
Sucli  were  my  reflcctior^,  when  alas !  my  swelling  hopes 
tumbled  into  dust ;  footsteps  approached,  the  door  opened, 
and  some  one  exclaimed, 

"  Lighten,  come  out,  or  the  turnkey  will  discover  you  !" 

To  this  I  made  no  replv  ;  and  the  man  continued, 
11* 


f 


i'i 


ihi! 


-i  ■  I 


'I 
[1'    '•' 


■ili 


'I  I 


ii 


I 


122 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGHTON. 


A  failure. 


A  fresh  eifort  for  escape. 


"  Lighton,  I  am  your  friend ;  come  out,  and  I  will  not 
tell  the  turnkey ;  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  get  away,  and 
for  your  own  sake  do  come  out !" 

Finding  that  my  detection  was  inevitable,  I  crept  forth 
from  my  retreat  to  see  who  the  intruder  might  be.  He 
was  an  orderly  prisoner,  who  had  the  liberty  of  the  yard, 
and  who  assisted  the  turnkey  in  his  duties.  Having  missed 
me  from  among  the  rest,  he  at  once  suspected  the  cause, 
and  returning  to  the  garret,  hailed  me,  as  already  related. 
Upon  leaving  my  hiding-place  I  eyed  him  askance  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  gruffly  said, 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  why  not  let  a  poor  fellow 
escape  if  he  can?" 

To  this  he  replied  with  much  evident  friendship, 

"  I  have  apprehended  your  design,  and  have  come  to 
dissuade  you  from  it ;  for  it  will  expose  you  to  death  if 
you  fail,  and  bring  me  under  severe  reprehension  for  not 
keeping  a  closer  watch."  As  I  stood  silent  a  moment,  he 
continued, 

"  You  may  possibly  make  your  escape  some  other  way, 
where  I  shall  not  be  implicated  ;  and  I  will  say  nothing  of 
this  affair  if  you  will  come  away  peaceably." 

Seeing  that  I  was  discovered,  I  retired  to  my  room  much 
disappointed,  to  meditiite  on  some  new  and  more  successful 
mode  of  getting  beyond  the  gloomy  walls  of  my  hated  pris- 
son.  This  futile  attempt  was  shortly  after  followed  by 
another  equally  unsuccessful.  Perceiving  that  it  was 
barely  possible  to  rush  by  the  sentry,  when  we  went  out 
for  our  water,  which  was  very  near  the  gate  in  the  prison 
yard,  I  told  my  companions  that  I  thought  of  trying  to  get 
off  that  way.  Pleased  with  my  reckless  daring,  they  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Get  away  if  you  can !" 


LIFE  OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


123 


le. 


The  attempt. 


Drageed  back  to  prison. 


Confined  in  the  dungeon. 


kvill  not 
ray,  and 

ept  forth 
be.  He 
ihe  yardj 
or  missed 
le  cause, 
f  related, 
ice  a  mo- 


)or 


fellow 


come  to 
p  death  if 
n  for  not 
loment,  he 

3ther  way, 
nothing  of 

oom  much: 
successful 
lated  pris- 
LUowed  by 
lat  it  was 
went  out 
the  prison 
dng  to  got 
.,  they  ex- 


To  aid  my  purpose  they  appointed  me  their  orderly,  so 
that  I  might  improve  the  most  favorable  opportunity.  To 
avoid  suspicion,  I  went  to  the  pump  without  my  hat,  having 
an  old  wollen  cap  stuffed  beneath  my  Avaistband,  which  one 
of  the  prisoners  gave  me  for  the  occasion.  One  day,  while 
I  was  deliberately  filling  my  tub,  the  sentry  turned  his 
head  to  gaze  at  some  passing  novelty ;  that  was  my  pre- 
cious opportunity  ;  springing  to  the  door,  I  was  iu  the  street 
in  a  moment,  running  at  the  top  of  my  speed.  But  here, 
again  my  evil  genius  attended  me ;  for  just  as  I  passed  the 
door,  the  turnkey,  impatient  at  my  delay,  came  to  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  and  stooping  down  to  see  what  was  doing,  he 
discovered  a  pair  of  heels.  Suspecting  foul  play,  he  rushed 
into  the  street,  shouting  with  a  Stentorian  voice,  "  Stop  that 
prisoner !"  The  roads  were  very  slippery,  being  covered 
with  ice ;  my  shoes  were  dry,  and  of  course  my  progress 
was  much  impeded  by  slipping  and  tumbling ;  still  I  kept 
onward,  until  the  turnkey,  overtaking  me,  brought  me  to 
the  ground  with  a  blow,  and  then  firmly  grasping  me  by 
the  collar,  he  dragged  me,  an  unwilling  follower,  buck  to 
prison.  There  the  guards  were  already  mustered  for  pur- 
suit, and  the  sentry  by  whom  I  had  passed  was  so  infuri- 
ated, that  he  would  have  fain  run  me  through  with  his 
bayonet.  Many  spectators  had  assembled,  and  the  jailer, 
meeting  us,  dealt  out  a  number  of  blows  upon  my  head  and 
face  with  his  fist,  and  pulled  my  ears  most  shamefully ; 
they  then  put  me  into  irons,  and  confined  me  in  the  dun- 
geon— a  cold,  dark,  comfortless  hole,  unfit  for  the  residence 
of  a  satyr.  How  strange  that  such  a  place  shoidd  have 
been  invented  to  recover  man  from  folly  ! 

My  place  of  confinement  was  opposite  the  guard-house, 
and  the   soldiers  amused  themselves  with  mimicking  my 


1 


1-  Si 
i 


124 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Determination  of  the  prisoners  to  break  juil. 


■«'; 


tJ 


sufferings.  This,  together  with  my  misery,  produced  a 
state  of  exasperation  amounting  ahnost  to  insanity.  I 
shook  my  irons,  knocked  at  the  door,  and  screamed  with 
great  vehemence.  At  last,  my  mad  efforts  exhausted  my 
strength,  and  brought  me  to  my  senses.  Ashamed  of  my 
folly,  I  sank  down  in  silence  to  the  floor.  From  this  dun- 
geon I  was  soon  removed,  and  once  more  mingled  with  my 
fellow  prisoners  in  the  old  apartment,  though  for  a  week 
my  irons  were  continued  on  my  person. 

The  condition  of  the  prisoners  not  being  ameliorated  by 
better  treatment,  they  continued  to  make  the  most  bitter 
complaints,  which,  like  the  whistling  breeze,  passed  unheed- 
ed and  neglected  ;  and  they  at  last  formed  a  stern  determi- 
nation to  break  jail  the  first  favorable  opportunity  :  a  sol- 
emn ajrreemcnt  to  this  effect  was  made,  to  which  we  mutu- 
ally  pledged  adherence.  Our  next  question  was,  lohere  to 
make  the  attempt ;  to  break  from  the  room  we  then  occu- 
pied was  uLerly  impossible,  on  account  of  its  contiguity  to 
the  post  of  one  of  the  sentries.  The  room  we  first  occu- 
pied, however,  offered  advantages  to  facilitate  our  design ; 
it  therefore  became  ti  point  of  the  first  importance  to  obtain 
its  possession.  This,  of  course,  could  only  be  done  by  per- 
mission of  the  jailer :  to  gain  this,  we  behaved  ourselves  in 
the  most  unexceptionable  manner,  and  having  secured  his 
good  will  by  our  quietness  and  good  order,  we  humbly  re- 
quested him  to  permit  us  to  occupy  the  work-house,  on  ac- 
count of  its  superior  size  and  means  of  comfort,  and  also 
because  our  room,  being  small,  was  likely  to  promote  dis- 
ease from  the  impurity  of  its  air.  Supposing  us  to  be  pin- 
cere,  he   granted  our   request,  and  gave  us  the    additional 

in  the  yard.     Our  time 
1  breaking  stones,  at  one 


?ge  of  walking  occasi( 


' 


now  employed  principalis 


.i*::;!, 


i'  I 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


125 


uced  a 
ty.     I 

id  with 
ted  my 

of  my 
his  dun- 
kvith  my 

a  week 

rated  by 
5t  bitter 
unheed- 
determi- 
r :  a  sol- 
k\e  mutu- 
I  ivhere  to 
len  occu- 
iguity  to 
rst  occu- 
r  design ; 
to  obtain 
c  by  per- 
rselves  in 
3ured  his 
imbly  re- 
se,  on  ac- 
and  also 
mote  dis- 
o  be  pin- 
additional 
Our  time 
fs,  at  one 


The  oath.         Prisoners  engage  in  cutting  the  t»ars. 


Manner  of  working. 


halfpenny  per  bushel,  we  had  but  little  leisure  to  mature 
our  project. 

To  secure  the  faithfulness  of  all,  we  bound  ourselves  with 
an  oath  to  stand  or  fall  together.  An  old  man,  named 
Pireau,  acted  as  our  judge  to  administer  the  oath ;  this  ho 
did  in  a  candid  and  deliberate  manner,  requiring  each  indi- 
vidual to  repeat  after  him  the  oath,  concluding  with,  "I 
agree  to  the  design  proposed,  and  in  every  respect  will  prove 

faithful ;  so  help  me ."     He  also  made  every  one  kiss 

the  Bible,  after  the  English  manner  of  taking  an  oath. 

This  done,  we  commenced  operations,  and  the  old  man 
was  appointed  chief.  He  proposed  to  cut  away  the  bars  of 
our  window,  which  he  said  was  the  only  practicable  mode  of 
escape ;  this  was  so  apparent  that  we  unanimously  decided 
upon  that  means,  and  to  carry  out  our  purpose  we  sent  by  a 
visitor  and  procured  a  knife  and  a  file.  Tlie  knife,  how- 
ever, was  so  thick,  that  it  was  useless,  until  we,  by  dini  of 
much  effort,  reduced  it  to  a  proper  size  by  rubbing  it  on  a 
stone.  This  done,  the  old  man,  whom  we  called  the  "  old 
fox,"  for  his  singular  cunning,  made  it  into  a  saw,  and  hid 
it  over  the  door  frame. 

Being  closely  guarded,  it  was  difficult  to  decide  where  to 
make  our  attempt ;  but  we  ultimately  resolved  to  try  the 
window  on  the  north  corner  of  the  prison,  as  the  only  one 
aftbrding  a  rational  probability  of  success ;  it  was  close  to 
the  prison  wall,  which  rose  about  three  feet  above  the  win- 
dow. We  proposed  to  cut  away  the  inner  and  outer  bars, 
and  then,  by  means  of  a  plank,  which  we  had  already  se- 
cured, to  mount  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  descend  on  the 
other  side  by  means  of  a  rope  fastened  to  the  remaining 
bars  of  the  window. 

We  accordingly  began  our  work,  but  to  avoid  detection 


f;:&. 


I!    '   '; 


ijiiil 


,  1' 

ill    • 

i 

f  ' 

1  i 

|| 

1 

1  '' 

!■.     .,;i;i 

i; 

flil 

R 

'  1  : 

^1 

1^ 

1 
i 
1 

'111 

1 

1' 

iHiiiij 

* 

y 

■1 

Jm 

126 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


A  new  prisoner. 


A  sudden  tninsition. 


The  prcpnriitlons  di?covcre(l. 


by  the  numerous  sentries  by  whom  we  were  guarded,  we 
only  worked  on  wet  and  stormy  nights,  when  the  soldiers 
were  sheltered  in  their  boxes.  On  these  nights,  old  Pireau 
used  the  saw,  and  the  rest  were  stationed  around  the  room, 
to  give  timely  notice  of  the  earliest  alarm.  One  of  our 
number  was  posted  where  he  could  see  the  sentinel  immedi- 
ately next  us  in  the  yard,  with  a  string  in  his  hand,  attached 
to  the  old  man's  foot,  which  in  case  of  alarm  was  to  be  pul- 
led as  a  signal  for  him  to  desist ;  and  he  not  unfrequently 
received  some  pretty  nervous  jerks,  that  made  him  eurse 
roundly  for  the  pain  they  occasioned  him.  Our  scheme  was 
now  in  rapid  progression,  when  the  introduction  of  a  new 
companion  stopped  its  further  prosecution  for  a  time.  He 
was  a  boy,  and  was  only  to  be  confined  for  one  month  ;  so 
we  determined  to  postpone  our  enterprise  until  his  depar- 
ture ;  but  he,  by  accident,  discovered  our  Intention  ;  we  then 
frightened  him  half  to  death,  and  made  him  take  an  awful 
oath  of  secrecy,  and  proceeded  with  our  work.  We  had 
soon  so  nearly  accomplished  our  preparatory  measures,  that 
we  only  required  one  more  night  to  apply  the  finisiiing  stroke 
and  take  our  departure.  Animated  to  an  unusual  degree, 
we  entered  upon  our  day's  labor  with  unwonted  cheerfulness, 
and,  while  we  hammered  the  hard  stones,  bright  visions  of 
liberty  and  freedom  floated  like  spirits  of  peace  before  our 
minds.  But  these  visions  were  too  bright  to  be  realized, 
and  there  was  something  ominous  in  our  exceeding  cheer- 
fulness. How  sad,  how  overwhelming  was  our  disappoint- 
ment, when,  about  11  o'clock,  A.  M.,  the  turnkey  entered 
our  apartment,  and  ordered  every  one  out  of  the  room,  say- 
ing, as  we  left  it, 

"  I  believe  some  of  you  are  adopting  some  measures  to 
escape ;  I  am  come  to  see  whether  it  is  so  or  not !" 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITOX 


127 


;ovorcd. 

[led,  we 
soldiers 
Pireau 
Le  room, 
of  our 
immedi- 
attaclied 

)  be  pul- 
equently 

im  Gurse 
leme  was 
of  a  new 
me.     He 
lonth;  80 
lis  depar- 
;  we  then 
an  awful 
We  had 
iures,  that 
ng  stroke 
|al  degree, 
■erfulness, 
visions  of 
lefore  our 
realized, 
ing  cheer- 
iisappoint- 
',y  entered 
oom,  say- 

leasures  to 


Tlic  author  is  ironed. 


Antfinr's  rf'<iiii"i;()t  iirrivcs  in  Quehoc. 


N 


He  then  examined  our  beds  ;  on  coming  to  old  Pircau's 
and  mine — for  we  were  coniriides,  and  slept  on  the  same 
bed — he  found  our  saw  hid  among  the  straw.  Kext,  the 
bars  of  the  windows  underwent  his  strict  scrutiny,  and,  on 
coming  to  the  one  which  was  the  subject  of  our  operations, 
as  if  aware  that  it  was  the  place,  he  gave  })articuhir  atten- 
tion to  it,  and,  notwithstanding  the  cuts  were  tilled  up  with 
charcoal  and  tallow,  he  soon  announced  liis  discovery  by 
exclaiming, 

"  Ah,  here  it  is !  I  have  found  the  place  where  they  are 
breaking  away !" 

How  bitterly  painful  was  this  sudden  disapi)ointment,  and 
how  mournful  were  the  looks  we  exchanged  with  each  other, 
as  he  collected  us  altogether,  and  drove  us  like  slaves  into 
the  dungeon  !  Pireau,  myself,  and  one  or  two  others,  being 
suspected  to  be  the  ringleaders  of  the  affair,  were  immedi- 
ately put  into  heavy  irons,  and  when  the  affair  was  made 
public,  we  were  announced  as  such,  though  in  fact  we  were 
no  more  deeply  implicated  than  the  rest.  After  a  few  da}  s' 
confinement  in  the  dungeon,  our  irons  were  removed,  and 
we  were  all  placed  in  our  old  apartment,  the  small,  unhealthy 
room  at  the  back  of  the  prison.  Old  Pireau  still  had  to 
wear  his  irons,  for  when  the  unfeeling  blacksmith  who  took 
them  off  our  limbs  was  about  removing  his,  he  did  it  so 
brutally,  that  the  old  man  complained  most  bitterly,  and  the 
smith,  growing  snarlish  and  cross,  went  away  without  finish- 
ing his  task.  In  consequence  of  this,  he  wore  his  irons  nearly 
a  month. 

Sixteen  months  had  now  elapsed  since  I  had  entered  my 
dreary  prison,  when  it  was  rumored  that  my  regiment  was 
ordered  home,  snd  had  actually  arrived  in  Quebec  for  the 
purpose  of  embarking.     The  wretched  are  ever  fond   of 


i:      :i 


;i 


a-;1*! 


Mili 


128 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOIf. 


Cuptaiii  Pierce. 


Deep  di<  couragoinent. 


grasping  at  the  mere  straws  that  float  by  t.  »Gm,  on  the  stream 
wliere  all  their  hopes  lie  wrecked ;  and  x,  with  a  similar 
desperation,  seized  the  idea  that  I  should  be  released  from 
my  weary  confinement,  and  be  conducted  with  my  regiment 
back  to  my  country ;  and  "  There,"  whispered  hope,  "your 
friends  will  secure  your  discharge."  My  old  comrades 
visited  me  nearly  every  day,  but  though  I  made  every  pos- 
sible inquiry  of  them,  they  could  afford  me  no  satisfactory 
information.  Unwilling  to  lose  any  opportunity,  I  petitioned 
the  officers,  humbly  confessing  my  error,  and  soliciting  their 
favor  and  official  influence  in  procuring  my  liberty,  and  my 
restoration  to  my  regiment.  A  few  days  after  I  sent  my 
petition.  Captain  Pierce  visited  me,  more  in  the  spirit  of  a 
fiend  than  a  man  ;  as  if  my  sufferings  had  not  been  suffi- 
cient, he  heaped  unmerited  curses  on  my  head.  This  un- 
expected and  ungodly  treatment  struck  me  dumb,  so  that  I 
could  scarcely  utter  a  word  during  his  visit.  He  told  me 
that  the  officers  had  received  my  petition,  but  could  not  as- 
sist me,  and  I  must  content  myself  with  enduring  the  full 
term  of  my  imprisonment.  At  last,  as  if  some  pity  yet 
glowed  within  his  hardened  breast,  he  presented  me  with  a 
dollar,  saying,  as  he  gave  it  me, 

"  I  give  you  this,  that  you  may  apply  it  to  your  present 
necessities," 

Upon  this,  I  bowed  and  thanked  him,  and  he  left  me. 

Soon  after  this,  I  addressed  a  letter  to  the  adjutant, 
who  also  made  me  a  visit.  His  kind  and  familiar  man- 
ner relieved  me  from  all  embarrassment,  and  enabled  me  to 
make  a  full  and  free  expression  of  my  feelings.  I  told  him 
that  it  was  my  impression,  that,  having  been  delivered  up 
to  the  civil  authorities,  I  was  no  longer  a  soldier ;  that,  as 
my  discharge  from  military  obligations  had  been  given  io 


,„i  *' 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON, 


129 


Colonel  Rumplu'g  visit. 


Regiment  ombnrks  for  England. 


stream 
similar 
■d  from 
egiment 
e,  "your 
omrades 

ery  pos- 
isfactory 
)etitionecl 
ting  their 
r,  and  my 
I  sent  my 
pirit  of  a 
)een  suffi- 

This  un- 

),  so  that  I 

le  told  me 

aid  not  as- 

ng  the  full 

pity  yet 

me  with  a 


lur 


present 


left  me. 
adjutant, 

liliar  man- 
ibled  me  to 
I  told  him 
tlivered  up 
3r ;  that,  as 
bn  given  to 


the  court  at  my  trial,  it  must  be  given  to  mc,  when  my 
term  of  imprisonment  expired.  lie  corrected  this  inijtK  s- 
sioii,  however,  iiv  U'll  np:  mc  that  my  name  was  still  coj  tin- 
ned on  the  military  i-oll,  and  that  I  should  probably  be 
joined  to  some  other  corps  at  the  close  of  my  confinement. 

This  information  cut  oft'  my  last  hope,  and  overwhelmed 
me  with  discouragement ;  it  showed  me  that  after  the  ex- 
piration of  my  present  severe  trials,  I  was  liable  to  trial 
for  desertion,  and  should  probably  be  doomed  to  the  lash 
or  banishment  with  some  condemned  corps,  and  perhaps  to 
loth.  This  was  the  saddest  prospect  yet,  and  it  filled 
my  heart  with  sad  forebodings. 

Just  on  the   eve  of  the  departure  of  the  troops,  I  wrote 
to  Colonel  Rumple,  requesting  an  interview.     He  was  now 
commander  of  the  regiment,  in   consequence  of  the  death 
of  Colonel  Andrews.     He  visited  me,  and  to  him  I  hum- 
bly acknowledged  my  fault,  and  earnestly  implored  his  in- 
fluence to  effect  my  release  and  restoration  to  his    corps  ; 
in  reply,  he  said  his  influence  would  avail  me  nothing,  or 
he  w^ould  willingly  use  it ;  he  was  sorry,  he  said,  to  see  me 
in  so  miserable  a  plight,  but  hoped  it  would  do  me  ultimate 
good.     Concerning  my  discharge,  he  said  that  I  was  still 
a  soldier,  but  not  under  his  command  ;  hence  he  must  leave 
me  behind,  in  the  power  of  the  governor,  who  would  do 
with  me  as  he  thought  best  after  my  release  from  prison. 
This  information  threw  an  additional  shade  upon  the  future;, 
and  left  me  still  more  the  victim   of  hopeless  despondency. 
Before  the  regiment  left  Quebec,  all  foreigners   weiv  dis- 
charged, in  order  that  none  but  Britisli  subjects  mvA\\  re- 
main in  it.     These  discharged  comrades  rendered  n  o  some 
important  assistance  by  their  voluntary   and    noble  gcnr. 

rosity,  for   which  may  they  be  amply  .vc warded    1>>   the 
12 


■  ii 


I  i 


U\ 


II' 

li>    r 


'  \f     I  i 


tm 


"  * 


150 


LPE    Of    WILLIAM    B.    tlOnXOJi'.- 


Morn  liopos  cruxhcMl. 


providence  and  mercy  of  Heaven.  Thus  did  my  lio[)es 
dawn  and  die,  during  the  sliort  stay  of  my  regiment  in  the 
city. 

N»)twithstanding  the  failure  of  our  plans  of  escape,  and 
the  subsequent  disappointment  and  sadness  of  our  hearts, 
we  did  not  wholly  despair.  We  were  continually  devising 
new  schemes,  which  as  ol'ten  proved  to  be  but  air.  At  last? 
Ave  resolved  again  to  petition  the  governor,  and  humbly  im- 
])lorc  his  clemency ;  but  to  our  numerous  petitions  we  recei- 
ved no  answer,  neither  in  writing  nor  assistance.  Then, 
supposing  we  had  exhausted  every  effort  that  aflbrded  a 
prospect  of  alleviation,  or  of  present  liberty,  we  sank  down 
into  a  sort  of  melancholy  and  forced  resignation  to  our  mis- 
erable circumstances.  Wo  were  completely  raised  from 
this  state,  however,  in  a  short  time,  by  an  unlooked  for 
occurrence.  A  ship  of  the  line  arrived  at  Quebec  in  want 
of  seamen,  and  one  day  the  officers  came  into  the  prison  to 
obtain  some  able-bodied  men  for  the  service.  The  jailer 
permitted  them  to  visit  us,  when  they  inquired  how  many  of 
ns  were  willing  to  volunteer  to  be  men-of-war's  men.  Every 
prisoner  eagerly  replied  that  he  was  willing ;  upon  which  they 
took  down  our  names,and  told  us  we  should  be  sent  for  in  a  few 
days.  This  intelligence  cheered  our  spirits,  and  we  were 
well  nigh  intoxicated  with  joy ;  we  fondly  dreamed  of  a 
safe  and  speedy  deliverance  from  our  irksome  confinement ; 
and  it  was  but  a  dream,  for  we  soon  learned  that  the  ship 
had  sailed.  Why  we  were  not  sent  for,  we  were  never 
informed.  Probably,  the  consent  of  the  governor  could  not 
be  obtained. 

By  good  behavior,  I  obtained  the  confidence  and  moved 
the  sympathy  of  the  jailer,  and  he,  in  some  degree,  mitiga- 
ted the  rigor  of  my  imprisonment  by  permitting  me  to  act 


,'f- 


LIFE    or    TVILLIAM    B.    LKiHTON. 


131 


liopcs 
ill  the 

le,  and 
lu'iirts, 
evising 
At  last, 
bly  ini- 
c  rccei- 

Tlien, 
forded  a 
ik  down 
our  mis- 
cd  from 
)okcd  for 

in  want 
prison  to 
le  jailer 
'  many  of 
Every 
iliicli  tliey 
|>r  in  a  few 

we  were 

led  of  a 
Jfmement ; 
It  tlie  ship 
lere  never 

I  could  not 

id  moved 

^c,  mitiga- 

me  to  act 


Another  scheme  to  csicnpo. 


V1»U  to  the  roiiunon  scwcr  of  tho  city. 


as  a  waiter  upon  a  gentleman  conllned  for  debt ;  this  service 
proeurt;d  me  the  liberty  of  tlic  yy.rd,  jtnd  though  I  was  shut 
up  in  my  room  at  night,  yet  my  situation  was  materially 
imi)roved. 

The  prisoners,  soon  after  this,   contrived  another  plan   of 
escape,  which  was  at  once  hazardous  and  cunning.     There 
was  a  drain  connected  with   our  room,   which  led  into  the 
common  sewer  of  the  city.     They  ])ro[>oscd  to  descend  this 
drain  and  folloAV  the  sewer  until  it  brouglit  tliem  unrlci-  the 
streets  of  the  city ;  from  thence,  cut  tliroiigli  tlic  arch,  and 
ascend  without  the  pri.son  walls,    -rjiis  ))lan  mnuifcstly  re- 
quired great  caution,  for  there  were  several   other  drains  in 
the  prison,   from  which  our  lights  in  the  sewer  must  inevit- 
ably be  discovered,  if  any  person   should    haj>pen   to    pass 
them  while  Ave  were  o]">erating  below.     For  the  procure- 
ment of  lights   they   depended  u})on  me,  as  I,  having  tlie 
liberty  of  tlie  yard,  could  obtain   them  with  greatei'  j'acllity 
than  any  of  the  rest.     Tiiis  I  ditl,  and  soon  supplied  them 
with  candles  sufficient  for  the  occasion.     Mr.   Pireau  was 
next  sent  to  reconnoitre,  and  ascertain  what  difRculties  were 
to  be  surmounted.     With  a  strong  rope,  which  we  had  })ro- 
cured,  or  rather  constructed,  he  was  with   much  dijliculty 
lowered  down  the  nari*ow  drain  into  the  sewer  below.     The 
"  old  fox"  as  we  called  him,  soon  returned,  and,  pulling  the 
rope,  we  drew  him  up  in  triumpli ;  he  declared  that  nothing 
could  be  more  encouraging,  as  there  was  but  one  obstacle  in 
the  way,  which  was  an  iron  grating  of  single  bars,   directly 
under  the  wall  of  the  prison  yard ;  the  cutting  away  of  one 
of  these  Avould  permit  us  to  pass  directly  under  the  street. 
He  jocosely  observed,  that  of  all  the  Avays  he  had  travelled 
in  his  life,  that  was  the  most  foul  and  offensive  ;  aiid  Avell  it 
might  be,  for  it  was  the  passage  of  all  the  filth  of  the  city- 


132 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LTOnTOJT. 


Tho  Bttein|)t. 


Unexpected  dlfncultiox. 


A  ludlrrniH  scono. 


.1^1; 


^Interials  to  cut  tl»e  bar  were  soon  ol)ttiinc(l,  and  the  old  man 
speedily  accomplished  that  task.  Myself  and  another  pris- 
oner were  now  deputed  to  descend  and  inspect  the  ground, 
and  to  report  the  probabilities  of  success.  We  accordingly 
descended,  and  after  a  short  examination,  returned  and 
stated  it  to  be  our  opinion  that  our  escape  might  easily  be 
effected. 

As  it  was  our  intention  not  to  make  the  hole  nntil  all 
were  ready  to  pop  out,  we  agreed  to  descend  together.  One 
of  our  number  declined  on  account  of  ill  health,  and  because 
his  teiin  of  imprisonment  was  nearly  expired,  lie  promised, 
I'Owever,  to  remain  in  his  bed  until  the  turnkey  brought  in 
the  wood  to  make  our  fire,  and  then  to  affect  utter  ignorance 
of  our  escape.  Satisfied  Avith  this  promise,  one  night,  after 
the  turnkey  had  gone  his  nine-o'clock  rounds,  an('  *  was 
quiet  in  the  prison,  we  descended,  nine  of  ns  in  nun.  ,  and 
proceeded  up  the  channel  to  the  scene  of  our  anticipated 
escape.  Here  we  experienced  uuich  difficulty,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  narrow  dimensions  of  the  channel,  and  be- 
cause of  a  great  flow  of  filthy  water,  occasioned  by  a  recent 
rain.  Ci*awling  upon  our  hands  and  knees,  we  could  but 
just  keep  our  heads  above  water,  and  sometimes  we  nan-owly 
escaped  drowning. 

The  prisoners  were  sadly  disappointed  upon  finding  such 
an  egi*ess  ;  they  had  expected  to  be  able  to  walk  erect,  and 
without  danger  or  difficulty ;  and  most  severely  and  blas- 
phemously did  they  curse  us  for  bringing  them,  as  they  said, 
into  such  a  hole.  Some  unfortunately  drowned  their  lights, 
and  were  involved  in  darkness.  This  so  discouraged  them 
that  they  would  fain  have  gone  back ;  but  this  miserable 
privilege  was  denied  them,  the  passage  being  so  narrow  that 
they  could  not  turn  round ;  go  ahead,  therefore,  they  must. 


LTPE  or    WILLIAM   n.   LICnTOX. 


133 


inc. 

dman 
r  pria- 
round, 
<lingly 
(I  and 
sily  be 

ntil  all 
.     One 
because 
omised, 
Lijrht  in 
norance 
lit,  after 
*  was 
,  and 
icipated 
conse- 

and  be- 
a  recent 

uld  but 
lun'owly 


Iiii|Hitlcnco  of  the  priHonors. 


An  unvxpcrtni  ol^tarlo. 


m 


nd 


sucTi 
and 
blas- 
cy  said, 
|ir  lights, 
ed  them 
iserable 
row  that 
ley  must. 


Old  Pircau,  who  led  tlic  van,  endeavored  to  encourage  them  : 
but  in  return  for  his  on'urtf*,  he  received  disgustin;:!;  oaths  and 
bitter  curses.  To  nie  the  scejie  was  truly  ludicrous,  and  1 
could  not  help  laughin^^  heartily  at  (heir  inisforlunes ;  in- 
deed, it  was  a  spectacle  worthy  of  llir  pencil  of  a  Hogarth. 
There  they  Avere,  toiling  up  a  narrow  aperture,  on  hands 
and  knees,  the  water  up  to  their  very  chins — each  niau 
dragging  his  bundle  after  hini  as  best  he  could,  and  all  of 
them  moaning  forth  the  mostsorrowfid  lauientations  ;  in  this 
style  we  reached  the  scene  of  operations. 

Here  it  was  more  spaeious,  and  here  we  paused,  our 
hearts  beating  high  with  the  hope  of  breathing  a  purer  air 
in  a  few  moments.  I  was  ordered  forward  to  assist  old 
Pireau  in  making  the  excavation,  as  only  two  of  us  could  labor 
together.  After  we  had  dug  and  pulled  for  some  time  with- 
out success,  the  men  became  impatient,  and  cried  out, 

"  Well,  are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  No,"  we  replied.  A  few  minutes  more  i)assed  away 
without  interruption,  when  they  again  cried  out,  with  Sten- 
torian voices, 

"  Have  you  got  the  hole  made  ?  " 

Again  we  answered,  "  No."  And  then  some  swore,  and 
others  joked  about  our  laziness ;  and  then  followed  a  short 
pause,  which  was  soon  broken  by  the  following  dialogue : — 

"  Is  the  hole  made  now  'i  " 

"  Not  yet." 

'•  Well,  what  is  the  matter  ?  don't  you  do  any  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  shall  get  through  by  and  by,  only  keep  still.'' 

Then  they  praised  us  for  our  diligence,  and  shouted, 

"  Halloo,  there,  old  fox,  what  arc  you  about  ?  Is  the  hole 
made  now  ?  " 

We  replied,  "  No ;  wc  arc  afraid  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
12* 


1;E. 


1    ,      ,vi 


f 

j 


124 


LIFE    OP   ■WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITOX. 


Bitter  disappointment. 


A  traitor. 


'^K' 


accomplish  much,  the  water  is  so  high,  and  we  have  nothing 
with  which  to  dig  into  the  wall." 

Having  no  implement  but  the  bar  which  we  hatl  cut  out 
of  tlie  grating,  and  the  channel  being  Availed  on  each  side 
and  overlaid  with  large  timbers,  we  soon  found  it  impossible 
to  make  any  available  imjiression  ;  and  v.hen  the  prisoners 
again  demj,  vied  if  we  were  ready,  we  rei)lied, 

"  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  succeed  to-night ;  we  had  better 
return  to  our  room  until  the  water  subsides,  and  we  are  able 
to  procure  some  implement  to  aid  us  in  forcing  away  the 
stones  and  timbers  of  the  channel." 

Now  commenced  a  scene  the  most  infamous  and  diabolical 
I  ever  ^vitncssed.  They  cursed  our  ill  success,  and  wished 
ten  thousand  evils  upon  us  for  bringing  them  into  such  a 
predicament ;  they  yelled,  howled,  and  cursed,  and,  had 
their  oaths  and  imprecations  been  fulfilled  ujion  them,  they 
would  have  sunk  to  the  lowest  depths  of  the  lowest  perdi- 
tion. At  last  \vc  regained  the  drain,  where  the  man  we 
had  left  bclilnd  lowered  the  rope,  and  drew  up  the  lightest 
of  us ;  tlius,  one  aftei*  another,  we  ascended  to  our  abode, 
wet,  cold,  and  miserable ;  it  was  well  for  us  that  one  of  our 
number  remained  behind,  or  we  could  not  have  regained  our 
room,  but  must  have  staid  below,  perhaps  to  perish  before 
morning. 

After  wringing  out  our  clothes,  we  retired  to  bod,  where, 
having  only  a  single  blanket  to  cover  us,  we  passed  the 
night  cold  and  shivering.  The  next  morning,  I  passed  out 
to  wait  on  the  gentleman  debtor  as  usual,  no  notice  being 
taken  of  my  still  wet  dress  ;  and  it  is  highly  probable  that 
our  attempt  would  have  been  unuiscovered,  had  not  one  of 
our  own  number,  regardless  of  the  oath  he  had  taken, 
treacherously  revealed  the  whole  affair  to   the  jailer  and 


(thing 


at  out 
h  side 
Dssible 
soners 

.  bettor 
re  able 
ay  tlic 

[ibolical 
wished 
)  such  a 
nd,  had 
!m,  they 
it  perdi- 
man  ^vc 
lightest 
abode, 
Ic  of  our 
ined  our 
1  before 

I,  where, 
3sed  the 
issed  out 
tee  being 

ible  that 
lot  one  of 
Id  taken, 

liler  and 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIOnTON. 


135 


Unjust  rovGnjfc.      A  nirions  contrivance  detected.     The  attempt  to  escape  ngnin. 


turnkey.  Upon  being  informed  of  the  fact,  they  drove  us 
all  dov/n  into  tlie  dungeon,  and  examined  us,  to  find  out  the 
ringleadn-s  of  tlie  jdot.  Old  Pireau  and  myself,  having 
been  found  guilty  on  a  former  occasion,  were  condemned  as 
the  instigators  of  this  movement,  and  loaded  heavily  with 
irons. 

Two  of  tlie  prisoners,  conceiving  me  to  be  tlie  cause  of 
their  detection,  increased  tlie  misery  of  my  situation  by  the 
most  violent  abuse,  and  by  robbing  me  of  my  food.  Tliis 
was  the  more  unreasonable,  as  I  was  suffering  more  severely 
than  themselves,  under  the  charge  tliat  I  was  the  ringleader 
of  the  whole  attempt.  The  night,  however,  relieved  me  of 
their  unpleasant  com[)an3',  as  all  but  Pireau  and  myself 
were  taken  back  to  their  old  apartment,  while  Ave  were  left 
sole  occupants  of  the  dungeon. 

Finding  his  irons  very  troublesome,  old  Pireau,  with  the 
lielp  of  a  piece  of  iron,  contrived  to  cut  them  in  such  a  way 
that  he  could  take  them  oil'  at  pleasure,  and,  througli  the 
day,  he  walked  about  freed  from  their  incumbrance  ;  but 
when  tlie  turnkey  approached  the  place  he  slipped  them  on. 
This  contrivance,  however,  was  disco\'ered  one  day  by  the 
turnkey,  avIio  came  to  the  dungeon  unexpectedly,  and  detec- 
ted him  before  lie  had  time  to  replace  them. 

Ul^on  being  restored  to  my  room,  I  made  a  firm  determi- 
nation never  to  attempt  an  escape  again  in  company  with 
my  faithless  and  unj>rinciplcd  companions,  as  it  Avas  now 
pretty  evident  that  some  of  them  would  betray  the  rest, 
either  from  desire  to  gain  favor  with  the  jailer,  or  from  fear. 
This  determination  was  tested  only  a  few  days  after.  Some 
of  the  prisoners  attempted  to  escape  tiie  same  way  that  avc 
had  su  recently  tried.  A  few  minutes  after  the  keeper  had 
gone  his  rounds,  one  of  them  descended  the  drain  to  examine 


1    T' 


4 


I' 


■U>J|giiJi*V.i^9Vi 


*'inmi(i "  'm^^^j  r 


136 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LtGHTJON. 


Another  fruitless  attempt. 


Resitniation  and  occupation. 


i',     -.' 


the  grating,  and  prepare  the  way  for  the  rest.  Hardly  had 
lie  arrived  below,  before  the  keepers  sprang  suddenly  into 
our  room,  and  began  inquiring  for  old  Pireau  and  myself, 
taking  it  for  granted  that  we  were  concerned  in  the  attempt. 
Happily  we  were  in  bed  ;  but,  though  we  informed  them  of 
the  fact,  they  could  hardly  be  convinced  until  they  were  as- 
sured by  seeing  our  persons.  We  told  them  we  had  nothing 
to  do  with  their  breaking  out,  and  that  we  never  meant  to  be 
guilty  of  such  a  crime  again. 

The  poor  fellow  who  had  descended  into  the  channel,  was 
soon  taken  out  by  means  of  a  trap-door,  when  the  turnkey 
beat  him  most  shamefully  with  a  cudgel,  and  drove  him  down 
to  the  dungeon,  where  he  was  heavily  ironed,  and  kept  for  a 
considerable  time."  This  circumstance  had  such  an  effect 
upon  all  the  prisoners,  that  they  abandoned  all  idea  of  libera- 
tion until  their  time  should  expire. 

As  I  had  adopted  a  similar  resolution,  it  struck  me  as  a 
wise  expedient  to  devote  myself  to  mental  improvement,  as  a 
means  of  passing  the  time  agreeably,  and  of  preparing  myself 
for  future  usefulness  and  happiness.  My  means  of  improve- 
ment w«re  very  small.  I  had  but  a  few  books  ;  however,  I 
sedulously  devoted  every  leisure  moment  to  the  study  of 
drawing,  writing,  and  arithmetic.  These  studies  had  the 
happiest  effect  upon  my  mind  ;  they  soon  relieved  me  of  that 
insufferable  prison  melancholy,  of  which  I  had  heretofore 
been  the  unhajipy  subject,  and  they  ultimately  paved  the  way 
for  that  glorious  change  which  I  subsequently  experienced. 
Still  the  time  spent  in  prison  was  a  vacuity  in  my  existence  ; 
even  now,  it  seems  like  a  whole  link  struck  from  the  chain  of 
my  past  life.  The  wonder  of  my  mind  often  is,  how  I  escaped 
utter  ruin,  connected  as  I  was,  so  long  and  so  closely,  witli 
such  unprincipled    characters.     Doubtless  the   restraining 


r-.i^K'wyffr^^mfi^y^-     -'^s.' 


^"^ 


?5wr7i^57?"''"''»«'?'!Lw™p?»«flraw»!»i^^ 


ition. 

dly  had 
ly  into 
myself, 
Lttempt. 
hem  of 
t^ere  as- 
nothing 
nt  to  be 


f-" 


.iiiiw|Li9f|iimifP- 


^mr^^^n^mm 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOX. 


137 


Resignation,  and  occupation^ 


grace  of  GocI  saved  me,  and  to  its  great  Author  I  would  «s- 
th"  bumhlr"'  '""^  ''*"'*™'''' ''°''  P''"-*'"^  »«<•*  «  brand  from 


lel,  was 
turnkey 
m  down 
3pt  for  a 
in  effect 
f  libera- 


rne  as  a 
ent,  as  a 
5  myself 
tnprove- 
svever,  I 
itudy  of 
bad  the 
i  of  that 
iretofore 
the  Avay 
rienced. 
istence  ; 
chain  of 
escaped 
}ly,  wit}i 
straining 


f 


CHAPTER  VII. 


One  struggle  more,  and  I  am  free." 


ii 


i    ^ 


^V 


We  now  had  an  addition  to  our  numbers,  of  a  character 
differing  from  all  the  rest.  He  was  a  young  Englisliman, 
convicted  for  some  petty  crime,  well  educated,  and  possessed 
of  a  tenderness  of  manner  that  soon  won  for  him  the  love 
and  esteem  of  all  the  prisoners^  By  a  Itpng  train  of  mis- 
fortunes he  had  become  greatly  reduced ;  when,  to  gratify 
his  sinful  and  intemperate  habits,  he  committed  the  offence 
that  })laced  him  in  prison.  What  think  you,  young  reader, 
occasioned  his  fall?  It  was  cruel  disobedience  to  kind  and 
affectionate  parents  !  Nor  was  he  alone  in  attributing  his 
fall  to  this  crime,  among  the  many  who  were  under  con- 
finement. Several  of  us  could  date  our  entire  list  of  sor- 
rows from  the  moment  when  we  violated  the  obligations  of 
children.  Would  that  the  young  would  beware  of  this  ac- 
cursed and  blasting  evil — this  root  of  a  thousand  woes  !  O 
that  they  were  wise  to  refrain  from  it,  ere  it  lead  them  into 
every  species  of  wretchedness  and  woe !  Hear,  young  rea- 
der, hear  i/ovr  duty  from  the  mouth  of  God  upon  this  sub- 
ject. He  says,  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that 
thy  days  may  be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God 
giveth  thee." 

This  young  man  had  not  been  long  with  us,  before  I 
formed  the  most  intimate  friendship  with  him.  As  we 
both  loved  reading,  we  united  our  studies,  and  read  together 
every  book  wc  could  obtain.  Among  the  many  we  bor- 
rowed, was    Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,   an  inimitable 


LIFE     Of   WILLJAM  B.   LIGUTON. 


ISO 


rilfiriin's  Progress. 


Conviction  for  sin. 


m 


laracter 
iisliman, 
osscssed 
the  love 
of  mis- 
o  gratify 
e  offence 
T  reader, 
land  and 
)uting  his 
uler  con- 
;t  of  sor- 
Igations  of 
,f  this  ac- 
^voes !     O 
them  into 
tonng  rea- 
this  sub- 
Ithcr,  that 
[l  thy  God 

before  I 

As  we 

Id  together 

we  bor- 
I  inimitable 


work,  which  neither  of  us  had  ever  seen  before  ;  this  we 
read  witli  an  increasing  interest,  until  we  became  entirely 
captivated  by  the  fascinating  style  of  the  author,  and  by  the 
peculiarity  of  his  descriptions  of  the  Pilgrim's  Avanderings. 
Nor  was  it  without  its  moral  influence  on  my  mind.  His 
description  of  the  Pilgrim  hastening  from  the  City  of  De- 
struction, struggling  through  the  Slough  of  Despond  to  the 
little  wicket-gate,  and  his  pursuit  of  the  heavenly  journey 
with  so  much  watchfulness  and  effort,  taught  me  the  neces- 
sity of  re[)entance  and  regeneration.  I  saw  that  I  must  be 
cleansed  by  the  washing  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  be  united 
by  a  spiritual  bond  to  our  blessed  Lord  and  Savior  Jesus 
Christ,  and  that,  by  his  grace,  I  must  become  obedient  to 
his  will,  or  forfeit  enternal  life.  When  v.  e  read  of  Chris- 
tian losing  his  burden  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  a  strong  de- 
sire for  a  similar  relief  awoke  in  my  heaving  heart,  and, 
ere  we  had  reached  the  close  of  the  work,  I  was  laboring 
under  deep  and  genuine  conviction  for  sin.  What  a  blessed 
work  is  that  of  Bunyan's  !  Doubtless  many  sor'"-  will 
have  to  bless  God  for  its  production  to  all  eternity  ;  it  is  so 
true  to  nature,  to  grace,  to  experience,  and  withal  so  in- 
teresting in  its  style,  that  it  must  always  be  both  useful 
and  beloved. 

How  various  are  the  means  used  by  that  Mighty  Agent 
of  the  gospel,  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  produce  conviction  in  the 
human  heart!  Sometimes  it  speaks  in  the  thunder,  and 
sometimes  in  the  whispers  of  the  breeze ;  now  it  works  in 
the  lightning's  flash,  and  anon,  in  the  darkness  of  the  silent 
midnight  hour ;  in  one,  it  speaks  with  the  hoarse  roars  of 
Sinai,  in  another,  with  the  sweet  sighings  of  Calvary ;  to 
some,  by  the  living  minister,  and  to  others,  by  the  silent 
book,  wonderfully  adapting  its  modes  to  the  various  con- 


h   :>■ 


■'I    !:- 


i 


iiii 


140 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.    LIOUTOK. 


A  piouM  visitor. 


Delay  of  duty. 


stitutions  and  circumstances  of  man.  O  blessed  Spirit ! 
my  heart  adores  theo  ;  my  spirit  yields  its  humble  sacrifice 
to  thy  glory,  and  to  thy  eternal  praise.     May  thy  influence 

till  my  soul,  and  lit  me  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in 
light. 

liy  a  peculiar  dispensation  of  Divine  Providence,  \vc 
were  visited  at  this  era  of  my  experience  by  the  Eev.  Mr. 
Archibald  and  another  gentlcnuui,  whose  name  I  have  for- 
gotten, an  olHcer  in  the  royal  engineer  department.  These 
gentlemen,  moved  by  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  came  to  visit  us 
in  prison,  in  hoi)es  to  find  a  disciple  for  their  Divine  Mas- 
ter within  its  wails.  Theirs  was  a  benevolence  of  the  right 
stamp — a  Christianity  developed  through  a  propei'  medium  ; 
they  labored  personalli/  with  sinners,  and  that  is  the  kind 
of  labor  that  the  Head  of  the  Church  requires.  They 
manifested  the  utmost  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  piety 
shone  conspicuously  in  their  deportment ;  their  mildnc^> 
and  suavity  soon  inspired  confidence,  and  we  listened  with 
respect  to  their  instructions. 

Perceiving  my  seriousness  of  manner,  Mr.  A.  used  to 
take  me  aside,  and,  with  much  affection  and  gentlenes.-, 
urge  me  to  seek  a  change  of  heart,  as  necessary  to  salva- 
tion. He  warned  me  most  faithfully  of  my  danger,  show- 
ing me  that  I  was  a  sinner,  at  an  almost  infinite  distance 
from  God ;  and  that,  if  I  would  be  at  peace,  I  must  repent 
of  all  my  sins,  and  take  the  I^ord  Jesus  for  my  Savior. 
But,  like  too  many  sinners,  though  under  deep  conviction, 
I  thought  I  could  not  seek  religion  then  ;  I  was  surrounded 
by  v.'hat  might  have  been  truly  called  "  the  devil's  own 
children,"  who  would  doubtless  m.-ike  me  the  butt  of  their 
filthy  wit,  and  low,  unmanly  ridicule.  After  I  was  libera- 
ted, it  seemed  as  if  a  more  convenient  season  would  ofl'er 


LlfE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


141 


Spirit  I 

sacrifice 
ifluencc 

,aints  in 

nee,  Nvc 
lev.  Mr. 
:uivc  ibr- 
,  These 
D  visit  us 
inc  Ma.s- 
the  riglit 
uietliuni ; 

the  kind 
:s.  They 
\nd  piety 

miltlner-> 
cued  with 

used  to 
rentlenes?, 
to  salva- 
!!•,  show- 
dititance 
lust  repent 
ly   Savior, 
conviction, 
lurrounded 
ivil's  own 
lit  of  their 
tas  libera- 
rould  ofier 


A  strange  preacher. 


An  effectual  sermon. 


itself.  Thus,  for  a  long  time,  I  strove  to  quell  my  tender 
feelings,  and  to  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit ;  yet,  like  the  patri- 
arch's dove,  I  found  no  rest ;  for  though  I  could  grieve  the 
Spirit,  I  could  not  resist  conviction  !  it  followed  me  in  spite 
of  every  procrastinating  effort.  Blessed,  thrice  blessed  be 
God  for  his  long-suffering  and  tender  mercy  I 

"While  in  this  interesting  state  of  mind,  I  attended  the 
prison  chapel  one  afternoon,  when  we  were  addressed  by 
an  entire  stmnger,  an  elderly  gentleman,  dressed  in  the 
garb  of  an  old  fashioned  Methodist  preacher ;  such  a  dress 
I  had  frequently  seen  worn  in  England.  His  peculiarly 
solemn  appearance  arrested  my  attention,  and  prepared  me 
to  hear  with  profit.  His  prayer  was  fervent  and  powerful ; 
it  took  hold  of  God,  and,  like  the  wrestling  patriarch,  he 
seemed  unwilling  to  let  go  until  Jehovah  had  blessed  him 
and  his  sinful  auditory.  While  praying  for  the  prisoners, 
he  seemed  to  carry  my  case  especially  to  the  throne  of 
grace  ;  under  that  prayer  my  convictions  increased  mightily, 
and  my  sinking,  but  wicked  heart  strongly  tempted  me  to 
leave  the  chapel  for  very  shame's  sake.  Glory  to  God,  that 
temptation  did  not  conquer  me ;  that  mesh  did  not  entangle 
my  unwary  feet. 

Christ,  the  sacrifice  for  sin,  was  the  lofty  theme  he  chose  to 
speak  upon  in  his  sermon :  he  showed  sin's  exceeding  sinful- 
ness, and  its  damning  effects,  from  the  fact,  that,  to  redeem 
a  world  from  death,  so  great  a  gift  as  the  Son  of  God  was 
necessary.  After  dwelling  a  sufficient  time  on  the  great 
doctrines  of  his  text,  he  addressed  lumself  with  deep  pathos 
to  the  prisoners  ;  he  showed  us  how  all  our  past  wretched- 
ness and  suffering  were  occasioned  by  nn,  and  how  sin 
world  ruin  us  in  the  future ;  he  invited  us  to  Christ,  urging 

the  most  weighty  motives   to  repentance  and  fai'h,  and 

13 


-yt 


n 


i  .■  I! 


iliil 


m 


1 

m 

i 

1 

i 

i! 

1; 

:;  if' 


142 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.    LIOHTO??. 


A  cunfctisioii. 


Good  advice. 


pointing  out  the  glorious  and  peaceful  results.  My  soul 
roultl  not  resist  the  eloquence  of  his  pleading,  and  it  was 
only  by  violent  efforts  that  tears  were  prevented  from  re- 
vealing to  my  comrades  the  workings  of  my  heart. 

At  the  close  of  the  mectinir,  I  went  to  this  venerable 
messenger  of  the  new  covenant,  and,  taking  him  aside,  said 
to  him,  as  I  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears, 

"  Sir,  I  am  desirous  to  become  a  better  man  ;  I  wish  to 
be  pious  ;  I  am  sensible  that  I  have  hitherto  lived  an  enemy 
to  God ;  will  you  give  me  your  counsel,  and  pray  that  your 
labors  may  not  be  lost  upon  me  ?" 

Taking  me  affectionately  by  the  hand,  he  replied  with 
much  earnestness  of  manner, 

"  Do  not  stifle  your  good  impressions,  but  submit  to  them 
until  they  are  followed  by  an  evidence  that  you  are  born 
of  God.  Pray  for  mercy  and  pardon  !  Believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  confess  your  sins  and  forsake  all  your 
evil  doings,  and  he  will  receive  you." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  cannot  prny ;  I  do  not  knoAV  hoAV."' 

"  Not  pray !  "  replied  he,  as  if  astonished ;  "  cannot  you 
repeat  the  Lord's  prayer?" 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  I ;  "  my  mother  taught  me  that  when  I 
was  but  a  child." 

"  Then  use  that,  my  dear  j  oung  friend,"  answered  he, 
"  and  make  it  a  model  in  all  your  addresses  to  the  throne 
of  grace." 

He  then  offered  me  some  advice  relative  to  my  future 
course,  and,  with  an  earnest  wish  that  my  heart  might  soon 
be  filled  with  the  full  fruition  of  divine  love,  left  me  to  my 
reflections. 

My  mind  now  labored  under  the  deepest  distress ;  I  saw 
God's  holy  law  was  against  me,  and  my  guilt  pressed  like 


in 
0, 


LIFE   OF    WILLIAM   B.   UGHTON. 


143 


Tuniptiitions  to  delay. 


Serious  state  of  mind. 


cc. 


My  soul 
(1  it  was 
from  ro- 

rcncvablc 
.side,  said 

I  wish  to 
an  enemy 
that  your 

)lied  with 

L 

lit  to  them 
I  are  born 
vc  in  the 
c  all  your 

how." 
cannot  you 

liat  when  I 

severed  he, 
the   throne 

my  future 

might  soon 

me  to  my 

ress ;  I  saw 
Iressed  like 


an  insupportable  load  upon  my  conscience.  To  increase  my 
npproliensions,  the  EVil  One  suggested  that,  in  yielding  to 
religion  the)i  and  there,  I  should,  like  Sampson  of  ancient 
story,  have  to  make  sjwrt  for  the  Pliilistines,  for  my  com- 
panions were  still  bitterly  opposed  to  religion.  Yielding  to 
these  wicked  insinuations,  I  buried  my  feelings  deep  in  my 
own  bosom,  revealing  tliem  to  none  but  the  Rev.  JMi*. 
Archibald,  who  still  continued  his  visits.  To  liim,  however, 
I  gave  a  circumstanial  account  of  all  my  mental  conflicts, 
and  received  in  return  the  best  possible  advice ;  he  loaned 
me  such  books,  also,  as  he  su])posed  would  be  useful  to 
me  in  my  state  of  mind :  one  of  these  was  much  blessed 
to  my  advantage ;  it  was  called  the  Prodigal's  Life :  such 
was  its  elfect,  that  my  convictions  increased  so  as  to  deprive 
me  of  rest  day  and  niglit. 

]My  time  I  now  spent  as  much  alone  as  possible,  occu])ying 
it  chiefly  in  praying,  reading,  and  walking  our  room  in  serious 
meditation.  On  one  occasion,  having  thoughtlessly  joined 
these  sons  of  Belial,  in  their  walk  to  and  fro  in  oiir  apart- 
ment, they  began  to  talk  of  what  they  Avould  do  when  relea- 
sed, and  they  Avanted  to  know  if  I  would  not  join  them  in 
their  wicked  plans  ;  as  they  talked,  their  feelings  waxed  hot- 
ter and  hotter,  until  they  seemed  ripe  for  the  i)erpetration  ot 
some  diabolic  scheme.  Suddenly  I  paused  ;  an  overwhelming 
view  of  my  sinfulness  and  danger  passed  before  me,  and  I 
felt  that  I  must  either  yield  to  God  at  once  or  be  lost  forever  ; 
my  wicked  heart  sought  an  excuse,  but  my  horrors  contin- 
ued and  increased ;  my  only  alternative  appeared  to  be,  to 
yield  then  or  be  damned  forever  !  Hell  was  all  open  before 
me,  gaping  to  swallow  me  up,  and  my  spirit  shuddered  lest 
in  a  few  moments  it  should  mingle  its  wailings  with  the  lost ! 
0,  that  was  an  awfully-solemn  moment. 


» 


.% 


\ 


h 


t| 


ii.^  f 

i(.! 


m^ 


I  > 


144 


LIFE   OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON". 


Powerful  conviction. 


The  conversion. 


Thii3  overpowered  by  the  almighty  power  of  God,  I  left 
tlic  company,  and  rushing  to   my  bedside,  fell  upon  my 
knees,  with  my  sins  swelling  like  mountains  before  me,  and 
])rayed  God  to  have  mercy  upon  my  soul.     While  thus  en- 
gaged, one  of  the  prisoners  came  into  the  bed-room  :  it  be- 
ing dark,  he  stumbled  over  my  feet :  as  he  struggled  to  rise, 
he  was  about  to  speak,  but  discovering  me  to  be  engaged  in 
])rayer,  he  stopped  short,  astonished  and  confounded.     After 
giving  vent  to  the  feelings  of  my  soul  in  prayer,  the  load 
upon  my  heart  was  removed  ;  the  insupportable  burden  was 
gone.     My  spirit  felt  refreshed  and  renewed,  and  I  felt  as 
if  I  could  forever  travel  the  heavenly  road  without  weari- 
ness or  pain.     I  felt  like  a  new  man — every  thing  around 
me  was  different,  or,  at  least,  it  appeared  so.     Surely  it 
was  a  new  creation  by  the  grace  and  power  of  God,  even 
the  transformation  of  ray  so„l  from  darkness  to  light — ^from 
Satan  to  God.     New  feelings  possessed  me  ;  love  to  God 
and  love  to  my  fellow-prisoners  filled  my  heart,  and  I  could 
willingly  do  the  worst   of  my  companions  good.      But  a 
few  minutes  before,  a  consciousness  of  the  divine  displeas- 
ure and  of  my  nearness  to  hell  bowed  me  to  the  dust;  now, 
a  knowledge  that  Jehovah  smiled  propitiously,  and  owned 
me  for  an  heir  of  bliss,  elevated  my  feelings  to  a  state  of 
holy  serenity  and  peace.     O  !  blessed  be  God  !     I  felt  re- 
deemed from  sin  and  guilt,  despair  and  misery,  death  and 
hell.     The  Lord  Jesus  was  my  advocate,  and  I  was  justi- 
jied   and   pardoned  by  his  precious  blood  ;  lost  to  every 
thing  beside,  my  heart  was  filled  with  thanksgiving  and 
praise. 

I  retired  to  bed  that  night  with'a  confidence,  that,  whether 
I  slept  the  sleep  of  death,  or  lived  until  the  morning,  I  was 
the  Lord's.     Full  of  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  I  awoke  in  the 


\\i 


T 


LIFE   OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIGIITON. 


145 


The  young  convert. 


Favorable  impressions. 


I'erdecution. 


■.■   ■, 


,  I  left 
)n  my 
le,  and 
lus  en- 
:  it  be- 
to  rise, 
aged  in 

After 
lie  load 
3en  was 
I  felt  as 
t  weari- 

around 
5urely  it 
od,  even 
it — from 
3  to  God 
1  I  could 
But  a 
displeas- 
ist;  now, 
id  owned 
I  state  oi' 
I  felt  re- 
loath  and 
vas  justi- 

to  every 
iving  and 

t,  whetlier 
ing,  I  was 
oke  in  the 


morning :  heaven  wa»  my  all,  and  earth  a  dream.  My 
soul  was  happy,  truly,  inexpressibly  happy,  and  it  seemed 
impossible  that  the  bright  sky  of  my  hopes  should  ever  be 
darkened.  Alas !  how  little  the  young  com  ert  knows,  in 
the  hours  of  his  first  love,  of  the  iierce  contests  and  fiery 
trials  that  await  him.  'Tis  well  he  does  not,  else  would  his" 
strength  fail  him,  luid  he  would  melt  at  the  thought  of  fu- 
ture ii'ials. 

On  the  return  of  Mr.  Archibald  I  related  all  my  feelings 
in  liis  eager  ear.  He  .iskod  me  several  (piestions,  gave  me 
much  useful  instruction,  and  promised  to  continue  his  visits 
every  week,  to  my  no  small  consolation. 

ISIy  conversion  produced  a  favorable  impression  upon  my 
fellow-prisoners  ;  for  u  time,  we  hud  comparative  peace  ; 
God  had  stopped  the  mouths  of  the  lions  for  his  servant's 
sake.  They  Avere  mostly  Catholics,  though  they  gave  no 
practical  evidence  of  being  Christians,  but  were  saints  and 
sinners  by  turns,  as  convenience  or  interest  demanded :  be- 
fore their  priests  they  confessed  their  sins,  and,  receiving 
absolution,  felt  as  safe  as  if  there  were  no  day  of  judgment, 
no  retribution,  no  God  to  judge.  Alas  !  that  such  a  human 
system  should  be  palmed  upon  the  credulous  and  ignorant 
for  the  religion  of  the  Bible.  May  God  soon  save  the 
world  from  the  curse  of  Roman  Catholicism. 

With  this  steady  frame  my  enjoyments  continued  for 
some  time,  when  some  of  the  prisoners  commenced  a  sys- 
tem of  persecution  that,  for  a  season,  marred,  but  did  not 
destroy,  my  enjoyments.  My  persecutors  were  the  most 
hardened  and  vicious  of  this  guilty  crew,  and  their  persecu- 
tions were  of  the  most  cunning  and  malicious  character. 
Once  they  reported  to  the  turnkey  that  I  had  conspired  to 
mutiny ;  that  my  plan  was  to  arm  m\'self  with  a  cudgel, 


4 


13^ 


■  !  i 


< 


'  I 


f  J- re 


1! 


lie 


LIFi:    OF    WILLIAM    D.    LIGIITOiV. 


A  Sutanic  Inventhm. 


Dlfinpimlnted  hatred. 


.'ukI,  as  lie  cumc  his  round  at  nine  cA'luck,  to  knock  him 
clown,  take  his  keys  and  clothes,  and  in  his  dress,  liberate 
them  and  myself  from  confinement.  Strange  to  say,  the 
turnkey  gave  a  partial  credence  to  this  most  egregious, 
though  ingenious  lie,  and  actually  prepared  himself  for  the 
anticipated  onset.  When  the  hour  arrived,  he  (ramo  into 
ihe  room  and  inquired  for  me.  lie  found  me  in  the  bed- 
room quietly  engaged  in  my  studies,  and  entirely  uncon- 
scious of  the  reason  of  his  inquiry.  Notwithstanding  my 
peaceable  occupation,  he  came  to  me,  and  addressing  me, 
said,  "  I  understand,  Lighton,  you  are  calculating  to  muti- 
ny— to  knock  me  down,  take  iny  keys  and  clothes,  and  es- 
cape with  the  rest  of  the  prisoners." 

As  he  spoke,  he  became  highly  excited,  and  swore  like  a 
maniac,  and  holding  up  his  bunch  of  massive  keys  in  my 
face,  he  declared  he  would  beat  my  brains  out  with  them  if 
I  dared  to  attempt  any  such  thing.  This  uftlooked-for,  and 
to  me  mysterious,  address  so  filled  me  with  surprise  that  I 
was  utterly  unable  to  clearly  defend  myself  from  the 
charge.  With  much  effo't ,  T  at  last  made  out  to  tell  him 
that  no  such  plan  had  entered  into  my  heac",  and  that  I  was 
disposed  to  be  quiet  and  harmless,  and  should  continue  so 
until  the  day  of  my  discharge. 

This  low  cunning  of  the  devil  and  his  agents  greatly  af- 
flicted my  soul,  and  I'or  a  time  was  a  sore  thorn  in  my 
flesh ;  at  last,  the  turnkey  became  convinced  that  the   re- 


port of  the  prisoner 


s  v*'a.5  a  iic, 


fabricated  for  the  purpose 


of  injuring  me ;  so    that    they,   in    their    turn,    were    con- 
demned, while  I   tilumphed  in   the  a  indication  of  my  inno- 
o.cnce.     Thus  was  Satan  entrapped  in  his   own  snare,  and 
God  turned  the  wrath  of  man  to  confusion. 
Amidst  these  petty  thougli  painful  persecutions,  the  grace 


S 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    ft.   LlOnxOX. 


147 


hiiu 
)erate 
y,  the 
igious, 
or  tlie 
c  into 
ic  bed- 
uncon- 
ng  my 
ng  me, 
)  muti- 
wd  es- 

•e  like  a 
s  in  my 

them  it* 
.for,  and 
that  I 

•oni   the 
ItcU  hin\ 

at  I  was 
[itinuc  so 

•catlv  af- 
p  in  my 
It  the  re- 

puvposc 
lore  coii- 
Imy  inno- 
Imrc,  and 

the  grace 


Tho  pcnce-nmknr.         A  prisoner  (ilarmcd.         Thn  Holy  Ghnnt  resisted. 

of  the  Lord  Jesus  sustained  and  enabled  nic,  us  a  good 
soldier,  to  endure  hardness  ;  and  by  degrees  1  gn.-w  bold  in 
reeommending  the  Savior  to  my  fellow-prisoners,  and  in 
interfering  to  prevent  or  heal  their  frecpicnt  quarrels :  for 
my  success  in  my  efforts  to  silence  these  brawls,  they  lion- 
ored  me  with  the  appellation  of  peace-maker. 

About  this  time  my  heart  was  rejoiced  at  witnessing  the 
awakening  and  concern  of  soul  of  one  of  the  prisoners, 
named  John  Hart,  occasioned  by  the  following  incident : — 
His  comrade,  whose  name  wa^  Kobinson,  and  who  with 
himself  united  to  abuse  and  i-ob  me  of  my  food  when  con- 
fined in  the  dungeon,  had  been  dismissed  from  jail,  his  time 
having  expired.  Soon  after  his  discharge,  in  attempting  to 
rob  a  house,  he  fell  from  the  roof,  and  was  so  seriously  in- 
jured that  he  died.  This  appalling  news  filled  Ilart  with 
fear  and  horror ;  trembling  with  an  awful  idea  that  liis  own 
death-hour  was  nigh,  he  begged  of  me  to  send  foi  Mv. 
Archibald,  which  I  did  immediately.  This  worthy  minij^tor 
of  the  gospel  came,  and  my  deeply-convicted  comrade, 
though  his  anguish  had  partially  subsided,  promised,  if  God 
would  spare  his  life,  that  he  would  live  better,  and  never  do 
again  as  he  had  done  in  his  previous  life. 

Alas  for  this  resolution  !  like  the  morning  clouds  or  early 
dew  it  passed  speedily  away.  Ere  a  few  day:*  had  passed, 
he  forgot  his  terrors,  and  returned  to  his  former  sin  and 
neglect  of  God:  it  may  here  be  added,  that  after  his  dis- 
mission from  prison,  this  rejector  of  the  overtures  of  divine 
grace  engaged  in  robbing  a  cliurcli,  iind  finished  his  blaclv 
<^arecr  n})on  the  gallows.  AVhat  an  awful  lesson  docs  this 
solemn  fact  teach  us  !  How  dangerous  to  irrieve  away  the 
Spirit  of  our  holy  God  I  Ivcadcr  are  you  trifling  with  that 
Spirit  ?     Beware,  lest  i/ou  trifie  your  ;-oul  into  hell !     Care- 


i 


f . 


M  :  i  1 


.1  1. 


M\ 


^  l'^ 


mn., 


148 


LIFE    OF  WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Dei>arture  of  a  friend. 


The  prison  scliool 


fully  follow  its  sacred  ^teachings,  and  it  will  lead  you  to  the 
blissful  walks  of  paradise  and  bliss. 

Being  very  desirous  of  communicating  the  glorious 
change,  which  hud  renovated  my  heart,  to  my  parents,  I 
wrote  them  a  letter  which  Mr.  A.  promised  to  send  by  the 
earliest  mail.  But  I  never  received  any  answer  to  this  or 
any  other  letters,  which,  at  different  times,  I  had  sent  home. 
This  was  peculiarly  painful  to  my  feelings. 

Soon  after  this,  the  gentleman  who  had  accompanied 
Mr.  A.  in  his  visits  of  mercy  to  our  abode  was  called  by 
Divine  Providence  to  leave  Quebec.  His  farewell  visit 
was  an  interesting  and  profitable  season  :  after  giving  us 
much  valuable  advice,  and  fervently  commending  us  to 
God  in  prayer,  he  took  us  euchby  the  hand  and  bade  us  an 
atfectionate  adieu :  so  touching  was  the  scene  that  every 
eye  was  bedewed  by  tears — every  heart  was  full ;  and  as 
he  left  us,  the  blessing  of  the  rer.dy  to  perish,  followed  him. 

Not  only  did  the  Lord  pour  his  grace  into  my  soul,  but 
lie  opened  a  door  through  which  I  received  some  relief  to 
my  circumstances.  The  jailer  perceived  the  change  whicli 
had  passed  over  me,  and  acquiring  confidence  in  m)  "  utcgri- 
ty,  he  employed  me  to  mark  the  prison  bedding,  clothes, 
&c. :  this  gave  me  a  lighter  employment  and  the  occasional 
liberty  of  the  yard,  and  very  nmch  ameliorated  my  condi- 
tion. 

About  this  time  it  was  proposed  to  establish  a  scliool  in 
the  j)rison  for  the  benefit  of  the  more  illiterate  of  the  pris- 
oners :  by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Archibald,  I  was  chosen  to 
teach  the  English  branches,  and  a  young  man  of  suitable 
talents  to  instruct  in  the  French  language.  For  our  en- 
couragement, liberal  rewards  were  offered  us  if  we  succeed- 
ed in  gaining  their  approval.     Our  operations  were  com- 


o  the 


)rious 


nts, 


I 

)y  the 
his  or 
home. 

panied 
ed  by 
1  visit 
ing  us 
;  us  to 
?  us  au 

every 
and  as 
ed  hira. 
)ul,  but 
elief  to 

which 

utegri- 
clothes, 

asional 
f  condi- 

hool  in 
he  pris- 
;  oseu  to 
suitable 
our  en- 
succeed- 
;re  com- 


LlfE    OF   WILLIAM  B.   LIGHTON. 


140 


A  gift. 


A  plentiful  provision. 


Doctor  Morula. 


merced  with  prayer,  in  presence  of  Mr.  A.  and  the  com- 
mittee. 

For  a  time  our  success  was  such  as  to  call  forth  the  un- 
qualified approbation  of  the  committee.  While  engaged  in 
it,  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Weidenbecker,  sent  me  four  dollars — a 
present  which  came  very  opportunely,  as  I  received  nothing 
for  teaching,  and  had  only  the  still  miserable  prison  rations 
for  my  support. 

Standing  in  great  need  of  provisions,  I  sent  out  and  pur- 
chased a  whole  sheep,  some  peas,  &c.,  with  Mr.  W.'s  dona- 
tions ;  the  man  just  arrived  with  it  as  Mr.  A.  came  to  visit 
the  school,  and  being  unwilling  h<  hould  see  it,  I  hasti  ned 
to  secrete  it  in  an  adjoining  cell ;  but  my  haste  attracted  his 
notice,  and  excited  his  suspicion,  and,  looking  into  the  cell, 
he  saw,  to  his  utter  astonishment,  a  whole  sheep,  ready  for 
cooking.     Returning  from  the  cell,  he  asked, 

"  William,  is  that  sheep  yours  ?  " 

With  some  confusion,  I  replied,  "  It  is,  sir."  "  Well, 
then,"  replied  he,  "  you  mean  to  live  M'ell,  I  see." — Here 
was  an  error.  I  ought  to  have  told  Mr.  .\.  the  facts  in  the 
case,  and  no  doubt,  from  the  benevoh  nee  of  his  heart,  he 
would  have  exerted  himself  in  our  behalf ;  but  as  it  was,  he 
never  gave  me  any  remuneration  for  my  labor  in  teaching. 
Probably  lie  supposed  we  were  ^v oil  enough  off  without  any 
pecuniary  aid, — On  the  approach  of  spring,  tlie  prisoners 
growing  weary  of  study,  our  school  ceased  ;  but  the  jailor 
having  nothing  against  my  cliuractcr,  permitted  nie  to  enjoy 
the  liberty  of  the  yard. 

Things  were  in  this  situation,  when  a  Freneli  gcntlemanj 
named  Moruia,  by  profession  a  doctor,  was  unjustly  commit- 
ted to  prison  for  six  months.  This  gentleman  soon  conceiv- 
ed an  attachment  for  me,  and  as  he  occupied  a  private  rooni, 


!  ,■•-{ 


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f 


150 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Plans  of  escape. 


A  disinterested  friend. 


Ill 


lie  succeeded  in  gaininp^  permission  of  the  jailer  for  me  to 
room  with  him — a  circumstance  which  made  me  compara- 
tively happy.  While  with  this  worthy  man,  he  cured  me 
of  a  cancer,  which  for  some  time  had  filled  me  with  alarm, 
and  threatened  me  Avith  early  dissolution ;  he  also  gave  me 
some  clothing,  which,  with  the  prison  allowance,  made  me 
quite  comfortable. 

The  providence  of  God  still  Avrought  in  my  favor.  The 
boy,  whom  the  jailer  employed  to  take  care  of  his  liorses 
left  him,  and,  his  stables  being  within  the  prison  walls,  he 
put  me  into  that  station.  Here  I  soon  discovered  an  almost 
sure  way  of  escape ;  and  it  appeared  to  me,  that,  as  my 
happiness  and  usefulness  depended  on  my  being  once  more 
a  member  of  society,  it  w\as  my  dutt/  to  attempt  it.  Filled 
with  the  thought,  I  told  the  doctor,  who,  transported  with 
the  idea,  cautioned  me  to  be  careful,  and  he  would  abscond 
with  me  when  the  favorable  hour  should  arrive,  for  the  sake 
of  making  my  escai)e  complete.  Meanwhile  he  commenced 
sending  out  liis  books  and  other  articles  to  the  care  of  a 
city  friend  ;  but  as  his  time  was  nearly  expired,  this  excited 
no  suspicion. 

The  motive  that  influenced  the  doctor  in  his  determina- 
tion to  escape  with  me  was  purely  disinterested  ;  his  own  time 
of  imprisonment  was  nearly  ex])irctl,  and  by  escaping  he 
only  exposed  himself  to  an  inci'cascd  penalty ;  it  was  for 
1)11/  sake  he  did  it.  Speakhig  upon  it,  he  said,  "  When  I 
think  of  your  situation,  the  misery  you  have  undergone,  and 
very  probably  will  have  to  undergo  all  your  life ;  and  when 
I  take  into  consideration  your  tender  youtL,  and  the  proba- 
bility of  your  future  usefulness,  both  to  yourself  and  the 
world,  could  you  be  free, — I  cannot  decline  an  act  which,  I 

deliverance  from 


your 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM  B.   LIGHTON. 


151 


Facilities  for  csc!i|)e. 


An  auspicious  inoiiicnt. 


Groundless  iitarni. 


vmina- 
n  time 
|)ing  he 
as  lor 
hen  I 
|ne,  and 
d  when 
proba- 
ind  the 
hich,  I 
:e  from 


all  your  present  and  future  misery,  and  which  will  restore 
you  to  liberty  and  happiness.  "With  these  feelings  I  sacri- 
fice all  regard  to  future  consequences,  for  your  happiness' 
sake ;  and  should  I  be  taken  for  my  escape,  I  shall  have 
the  satisfaction  to  know  that  you  are  free,  and  that  my 
memory  is  cherished  in  your  affections  for  the  act." 

Upon  the  propriety  of  escaping  I  had  some  occasional 
doul)ts,  but  the  idea  of  ultimate  transportation  was  a  goad 
to  urge  me  onward — a  justification  of  the  attempt — and  me- 
thinks  every  re.  ler  will  justify  tlic  act  too. 

As  ostler  or  groom  to  the  jailer,  I  had  access  to  the  south 
garret  of  the  prison  for  grain,  it  being  used  as  a  sort  of 
granary.  This  garret  w^as  close  to  our  room ;  and  my  plan 
was,  to  secure  the  keys  of  this  i)lace,  and,  with  the  aid  of  a 
rope,  descend  from  the  window  to  tlie  street,  as  there  were 
no  bars  for  its  security.  The  doctor  prepared  every  thing 
for  our  departure,  and  we  only  waited  to  obtain  the  keys. 

One  evening,  being  in  want  of  grain,  I  went  to  the  kitchen 
as  usual  for  the  keys  ;  there  was  no  person  there  but  a  little 
girl  about  twelve  years  of  age,  and  I  took  them  down  and 
passed  out  unobserved ;  running  up  to  the  garret,  I  got  my 
grain,  and  WMth  the  doctor  made  all  necessary  observations. 
We  then  left  the  inner  .  or  unlocked,  but  the  outer  one  we 
locked  as  usual,  to  avoid  suspicion.  This  done,  the  doctor 
secured  the  kevs  in  our  room,  while  I  went  down  and  atten- 
ded  to  my  horses,  and  returned  to  my  apartment  without 
exciting  the  least  -nspicion.  How  did  my  heart  flutter  at 
the  prospect  before  me  I  How  anxious  did  I  feel  for  the 
success  of  the  enterprise  before  me  !  How  impatient  for 
the  hour  of  attempt ! 

Every  thing  remained  tranquil  and  undiscovered  through 
the  evening;  at  nine  o'clock  the  turnkey  came  his  niglitly 


4- 


■  -I 


■ 


152 


LII?E    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOH". 


A  nipht's  excitemnnt. 


The  crisis. 


The  escape. 


round ;  he  entered  our  chamber,  looked  about,  wished  us 
"good  night,"  and  retired.  "We  now  fancied  ourselves 
secure,  and  our  feelings  were  highly  animated  ;  but,  .about 
ten  o'clock,  we  were  greatly  alfirmed  by  the  turnkey,  whom 
we  heard  unlocking  the  doors  which  shut  across  the  passage 
leading  to  our  room.  Terrified,  and  fearful  lest  we  were 
discovered,  we  threw  our  half-prepared  bundles  under  the 
bed,  and  then  sat  dcvn,  apjuirently  deeply  engaged  in  study, 
to  wait  the  event ;  but  it  was  only  a  new  prisoner,  who  was 
placed  in  a  neighboring  room  by  the  turnkey ;  after  perfor- 
ming this  duty,  he  just  peeped  in  upon  us,  and  wished  us  a 
second  "  good  night,"  evidently  without  the  least  suspicion 
of  our  design — a  narrow  escape  truly. 

Feeling  no  disposition  to  sleep,  we  spent  the  night  watch- 
ing for  the  moment  which  was  to  free  us  from  the  gloom  of 
the  prison.  Every  thing  remained  perfectly  silent,  save  the 
city  watchmen,  who  occasionally  cried,  ^^  AlVs  well" — a 
sentiment  that  truly  accorded  Avith  our  own  feelings.  At 
four  o'clock,  just  before  the  dawn  of  a  new  day,  the  watch- 
men left  their  variou^s  posts,  and  retired  ;  then  was  our  fa- 
vorable moment,  while  darkness  still  overspread  the  face  of 
nature,  and  men  were  still  locked  in  the  arms  of  slumber. 
Taking  our  bundles,  we  carefully  unlocked  the  door  of  the 
garret,  which  we  effected  with  little  noise  ;  next,  we  secured 
the  rope  to  a  brace,  and  dropped  it  over  the  eaves  of  the 
building ;  these,  being  covered  with  tin,  made  considerable 
noise,  and  we  paused  a  moirent,  fearitig  w<i  had  alarmed  the 
sentry,  who  was  in  the  yard  at  no  great  distance.  Hapi)ily 
he  did  not  hear  us.  I  was  so  transported  with  prospect  of 
lih(M'ty  and  freedom,  and  so  afraid  of  being  hindered,  that  1 
told  the  doctor  I  would  not  take  my  bundle  ;  he  urged  me, 
and  bade  me  take  it  by  all  means ;  but,  without  attendiiii>" 


I^^w^^^ 


an»tm<iit  iinr-iai>> 


icape. 


I  I 


shed  us 
irselvcs 
t,  about 
r,  whom 
passage 
we  were 
nder  the 
in  study, 
who  was 
r  perfor- 
;hed  us  a 
suspicion 

ht  watch- 
gloom  of 
,  save  the 

ings.     At 
le   watch- 
as  our  fa- 
le  face  of 
slumber. 
)or  of  th(^ 
re  secured 
^'63  of  the 
nsidcrablc 
armed  the 
Happily 
rospect  of 
•ed,  that  I 
urged  me, 
atteudiii!;" 


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LIFE  OF  WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


153 


Farewell  to  ray  prison. 


to  his  wislies,  I  seized  the  rope,  and  was  speedily  in  the 
street  ])elow,  where  I  i*etired  to  a  short  distance  to  await  my 
companion.  He  was  somewhat  longer  in  descending,  having 
cncumhei'ed  himself  with  my  bundle ;  thus  burdened,  he 
had  but  one  hand  at  liberty  to  descend  with  on  the  rope  ;  he 
had  contrived  to  place  it  between  his  feet  at  starting,  but, 
on  tun  ing  the  eaves,  his  feet  slipped,  and  he  slid  down  the 
whole  four  stories  with  one  hand  only.  The  suddenness  of 
liis  descent  fired  the  rope  before  he  half  reached  the  bottom, 
so  that  he  nearly  lost  liis  hold,  and  narrowly  escaped  a 
deadly  fall.  His  hand  was  useless  for  some  time  after. 
Thus  did  we  providentially  escape  a  prison,  in  which  I  had 
been  confined  two  years  and  two  months.  Joyfully  I  bade 
it  a  long  farewell. 

"  Dark  prison  dome,  farewell. 

How  slow  the  hours 
Have  told  their  leaden  march  within  thy  walls ! 
Toil  claimed  the  day,  and  stem  remorse  the  night ; 
And  every  season  with  a  frowning  face 
Approached,  and  went  unreconciled  away. 
Ah!  who,  with  virtue's  pure,  unblenching  soul, 
Can  tell  how  tardily  old  Time  doth  move, 
When  guilt  and  punishment  have  clogged  his  wings ! 
The  winter  of  the  soul,  the  frozen  brow 
Of  unpolluted  friends,  the  harrowing  pangs 
Of  the  last  prayer,  learned  at  the  mother's  knee, — 
The  uptorn  hope,  the  violated  vow. 
The  poignant  memory  of  unuttered  things, — 
Do  dwell,  dark  dome,  with  him  who  dwells  with  thee. 
And  yet,  thou  place  of  woe,  I  would  not  speak 
Too  harshly  of  thee,  since  in  thy  sad  cell 
Repentance  found  me,  and  did  t,£eep  with  tears 
My  lonely  pillow,  till  the  heart  grew  soft, 
And  spread  itself  in  brokenness  before 

u 


m 


ill. 


I 
If 


w 


ii  i 


'J 


354 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.    LiairTOJT. 


Poetry. 


The  eye  of  nicrey.     ****** 
■H.     »     -It     *     *     *     But  when  I  view 
Onee  iiioio  my  liome,  when  inild,  forgiving  eyes 
Shall  bc.'im  npoti  nie.Jind  (he  long-lost  \iiighl 
Of  freedom  nerve  my  nnn.  uiriy  the  Plrong  lines 
Of  ihat  hard  lc?ieon  sin  hnlh  hinuht  my  soul 
(rlenm  like  a  fhuiiing  bencon, 

(I'od  of  heaven  '. 
Who,  not  for  our  infirmities  or  crime?, 

Dost  liM'n  thy  face  a\v;iy,  gird  thou  my  sonl^ 
And  fortify  its  purpose,  i«o  to  run 
lis  future  pilgrini-raee,  an  not  t()  los(> 
The  sinner's  ransom  at  the  bar  of  doom-'' 


CPIAPTER  VIU. 


art  thou  then 


Desolate  of  friends?" 

As  the  bent   bough,  relieved  of  the   obnoxious  weiglit 
that  made  it  droop  to  earth,  springs  back  to  its  original  po- 
sition, and  yields  gracefully  to  the  passing  breeze,  so  my 
nnnd,  freed  from  the  shadows  of  the  prison  walls,  and  from 
the  weight  of  a  tedious  confinement,  rejoiced  in  its  own 
wonderful  elasticity  ;  it  filled  almost  to  bursting  with  tu- 
multuous joys  ;  it  felt  emotions  indescribable  by  language- 
emotions  only  to  be  conceived  by  those  who  have  experi- 
enced them  ;  it  was  a  storm  of  bliss- 
After  my  companion  joined  me,  we  hastily  passed  out  of 
the  city,  and  without  alarm  or  discovery  we  reached  the 
suburbs.     Here  we  crossed   the  river  on   the  ice,   which, 
though  it  was  the   25th  of  April,  (1825,)  was  still  passed 
by  teams.     While  on  the  ice,  the  doctor  fell  upon  his  knees, 
and  offered  his  thanks  to  Divine    Providence  for  our  de- 
liverance.     Though    I   felt   equally   grateful,    I    was   too 
anxious  to  consummate  our  escape  to  follow  his  example, 
but  kept  running  on,  praising  God  by  the  way.     Such  was 
the  mingling  of  fear  and  animation,  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  did :  sometimes  I  hurried  the  doctor,   who,  being 
somewhat  advanced  in  years,   could  not  keep   pace  with 
my   buoyant   footsteps ;  then  I   ran   on   before  him,   and 
beckoned   him  to   follow ;  and   again  I  jumped,  laughed, 
talked,  and  sung,  like  one  who  has  taken  leave  of  his  rea- 
son ;  frantic  with  joy,  my  mind  could  not  retain  its  balance. 


ii>: 


11 


I 

1,^ 


'n 


•^mfmum 


loG 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM    B.   LIGIITOIT. 


The  journey.  Pniceetlsi  towards  the  back  country.  Ti.iveUaiiMcrvitnt  to  thedoctor. 

Wc  determined  to  travel  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  among 
tlic  French  population,  partly  because  the  circulation  of 
news  was  very  limited  and  slow  in  that  direction,  ap.d  part- 
ly because  our  pursuers  would  not  probably  suspect  us  of 
going  by  that  route,  but  would  naturally  ccmcludo  that  we 
liad  gone  towards  the  United  States.  By  sunrise,  we  reach- 
ed a  [)iccc  of  woods,  from  which  Ave  had  a  view  of  the  city 
and  prison.  There  wc  paused  to  look  back  upon  the 
gloomy  walls,  which,  a  short  time  before,  deprived  us  of 
liberty,  and  to  imagine  the  surprise  and  astonishment  of 
tliG  keepers,  when  they  shoukl  discover  our  absence.  "We 
mdulgcd  in  these  imaginations  with  much  merriment,  and 
with  frequent  bursts  of  loud  and  liearty  laughter.  How 
pleasant  wnij  that  Iiour  ! — it  v  is  the  hour  of  prime  ;  the 
bright  sun  was  riding  uf  the  eastern  cloud-paths,  the  song- 
sters of  the  gi'ovc  were  just  beginning  to  utter  their  mellow 
rotes,  and  every  thing  seemed  to  us  to  be  rejoicing  in  our 
deliverance.  That  moment  was  sweet ;  it  reminded  me  of 
those  morning  hours  spent  in  the  groves  of  England,  and 
begat  in  my  mind  strong,  burning  wishes  for  a  return  to 
the  hearth  of  my  parents,  where  I  might  once  more  briiathe 
the  free  air  of  my  country's  salubrious  clime. 

At  first,  we  determined  to  spend  the  day  in  the  woods  ; 
but  the  keenness  of  the  morning  air  compelled  us  to  keep 
travelling  for  the  sake  of  warmth ;  so  we  pursued  our  way 
across  the  fields  into  the  back  country.  To  prevent  sus- 
picion, the  doctor  proposed  to  travel  as  a  physician,  and  I 
was  to  attend  him  in  the  capacity  of  a  servant.  A\  noon, 
we  dineil  with  a  French  family,  which  was  the  first  social 
meal  I  iiad  eaten,  except  in  the  barracks  and  in  i>rison, 
since  my  departure  from  England.  Towards  night  we 
came  to  a  retired  spot,  where  wC   both  united  in  humble 


I  doctor. 


Ht.  Aim's. 


St.  .\nn's  church. 


Interi(»r  of  the  church. 


mong 
on  of 
part- 
us of 
lat  we 
reacli- 
le  city 
n    the 
!  us  of 
icnt  of 
.     AVe 
lit,  and 

How 
e;  the 
e  song- 
mellow 
in  our 

me  of 
nd,  and 
uni  to 
breathe 

woods ; 
o  keep 
ur  way 
,nt  sus- 
,  and  I 
noon, 
social 
prison, 
ght  we 
humblo 


prayer,  and  in  licarty  ])raisc  for  our  deliverance,  and  Jir- 
dently  prayc<l  for  divin<^  guidance  in  the  future.  This  ex- 
ercise was  peculiarly  refrcfihing  to  our  souls,  and  we  arose 
from  our  devotions  v  'th  increased  confidence  in  Clod.  We 
then  sought  a  house,  and,  having  found  one,  j  ut  up  for  the 
iiight. 

Tiie  following  night  we  stai<l  with  a  friend  of  the  doctor, 
who  had  visited  him  in  his  confinement.  This  gentleman 
had  no  idea  that  we  had  broken  jail,  but  supposed  we  had 
been  regularly  discharged ;  and  as  he  was  not  very  curious 
in  his  encpiiries,  we  did  not  undeceive  him.  He  hospitably 
entertained  us  the  next  day  and  night.  Our  next  place  of 
rest  was  St*  Ann's,  where  was  a  Roman  Catholic  church, 
which  was  helu  lU  high  estimation  by  the  inhabitants  of 
this  part  of  Canada.  Having  heard  murh  of  this  place 
from  the  Catholic  prisoners  in  Quebec,  I  proposed  to  visit 
it,  to  which  my  companion  assented. 

St.  Ann's  church  is  held  in  high  and  sacred  repute  by 
the  French  Catholics  in  Canada,  as  a  place  from  whence 
many  healing  virtues  were  to  be  derived.  It  is  belicAed 
that  St.  Ann,  the  patroness  of  the  church,  will  heal  and  re- 
store to  their  original  health  and  bodily  perfection  any  wiio 
are  sick,  lame,  or  mutilated,  who  liave  faith  in  her  power, 
and  will  pay  their  devotions  at  Iter  shrine.  Pity  St.  Ann's 
diocese  does  not  extend  over  the  whole  country  ! 

As  we  ascended  the  church  steps,  the  doctor,  in  agree- 
ment with  the  custom  of  the  people,  knelt  down,  crossed 
himself  and  said  a  short  prayer,  while  I  stood  gazing  with 
a  sort  of  superstitious  aw^e  at  the  sacred  edifice.  Upon  en- 
tering, the  first  object  that  struck  my  attention  was,  a  num- 
ber of  wooden  legs,  crutches,  staves,  &c.,  hung  up  in  regiv- 

lar  rows  as  ocular  demonstrations  of  tke  cures  wrought  hy 
14* 


.1^ 


•4 


.  .1 


158 


MKK    OF    WILLIAM   B.    LIOIITOW. 


The  n)K(l-itido  r.to^'wn. 


Hup4!n>tUlun. 


the  mystic  power  of  St.  Ann.  A.s  I  entered,  my  blood 
eljillcd,  and  a  shudder  of  awe  crept  over  my  frame.  The 
whole  scene  was  new  and  overpowering,  as  I  had  never 
seen  the  splendor  of  a  Catholic  church  I)efore.  On  our 
right  was  a  tiguix)  of  our  blessed  lledeemcr,  nearly  a.s 
large  as  life,  hanging  in  a  relaxed  posture  upon  the  cross, 
and  besmoaretl  with  blood.  Yielding  to  my  crowding  as- 
sociations of  devotional  thoughts,  I  fell  upon  my  knees  and 
prayed,  not  to  the  imago,  but  to  my  Savior — the  world'.-* 
^lediator,  who  died  upon  Calvary's  bloody  summit  for  my 
bins. 

There  is  one  superstitious  observance  which  is  very  com- 
mon in  this  part  of  Canada :  it  may  be  called  their  cross 
homage.  At  short  distances,  crosses  are  erected  by  the 
road-side,  to  which  the  devotee  does  reverence  by  pulling 
otf  ids  hat,  crossing  himself,  and  saying  a  short  j  rayer,  and 
sometimes  even  kneeling  at  their  base.  On  these  idolatrou.s 
conveniences  are  frequently  suspended  various  articles,  said 
to  have  been  used  at  the  crucifixion  of  the  blessed  Savior, 
placed  along  in  order  on  the  cross-piece  or  horizontal  beam 
of  the  cross.  They  also  pretend  to  have  the  cock  that 
crowed  when  Peter  denied  bis  Master !  Astounding  su- 
perstition !  Profound  ignorance !  IIow  different  is  the 
simple  worship  dictated  by  the  gospel !  IIow  opposite  is 
Popery  to  the  gospel  I  IIow  ruinous  its  effects  upon  the 
interests  of  man !  Reader,  look  at  the  fruits  of  Koman 
Catholicism.  See  how  it  darkens  the  page  of  revelation  by 
its  mi.sts  of  false  interpretations  and  dead  languages.  And 
how  has  it  spread  ignorance  over  the  face  of  society  !  Look 
at  its  history,  full  of  tyranny  and  blood.  True,  the  power 
of  the  inquisition  is  nearly  lost ;  but  the  spirit  of  that  church 
i^  unaltered,  and  its  practice  would  correspond  with  its  pre- 


■ 


LlFH   0^   >TtLLIAM   B.   LIOIITON. 


150 


blooil 

The 
never 
II  our 
'\y   a."* 

cross, 
ng  HA- 
es  and 
vorld'rt 
or  my 

y  com- 
L'  cross 
by  the 
pulling 
cr,  an«l 
(latrous 

St  saul 
Savior, 
il  beam 
3k  that 
ing  su- 

i3  the 
osite  is 
)on  the 

Koman 
ition  by 
And 
Look 
power 

, church 

its  prc- 


The  dr  ^tor  and  I  rvMolve  to  pnrt.    Tim  iiiilhnr  lets  hlmnfllf.    DulneM  of  ultuatlon. 

viou.s  doings,  did  it  not  lack  the  power.  May  wc  feel 
thankful  for  the  pure,  unmixed,  simple  gospel. 

The  doctor's  profession  afforded  us  ample  means  of  sup- 
port, as  he  seldom  visited  a  family  without  having  some  ail 
to  relieve  for  some  of  its  inmates.  Unwilling  to  remain 
dependant  upon  his  charity,  I  determined  to  leave  him,  and 
find  some  honest  employment.  At  first  he  dissuaded  me, 
but  finding  my  resolves  to  be  firm  and  decided,  he  turned 
his  attention  towards  the  procurement  of  a  situation  ;  to 
avoid  detection,  he  thought  it  expedient  for  me  to  assumo 
another  name,  which  1  did  calling  myself  Thomas  Ellen- 
court. 

Arriving  at  a  large  farm  in  the  parish  of  St.  Joachim, 
about  thirty  miles  below  Quebec,  my  companion  incjuired 
if  they  wished  to  hire.  After  some  conversation,  and  an 
abundance  of  recommendation  from  the  doctor,  I  agreed  to 
work  for  the  owner  for  fifteen  shillings  per  month.  This 
was  low  wages,  but  it  was  rather  out  of  season  to  hire  then^ 
and  the  man  said  he  hired  me  more  out  of  charity  than 
from  need  of  my  services.  The  highest  wages  paid  in 
that  vicinity  was  only  four  dollars  per  month.  The  bargain 
being  made,  I  accompanied  the  doctor  a  short  distance, 
when,  after  promising  to  see  me  in  two  months  if  practica- 
ble, he  bade  me  .in  affectionate  farewell. 

My  first  task  was  to  chop  wood ;  but  at  this  I  was  very 
awkward,  and  could  accomplish  but  very  little,  as  it  was  my 
first  attempt  at  such  work.  Upon  this,  and  in  considera- 
tion of  my  weak  and  fragile  appearance,  they  soon  gave 
me  lighter  and  easier  work.  My  situation,  however,  soon 
became  irksome,  as  I  found  none  with  whom  I  could  con- 
verse in  my  own  tongue,  except  an  old  Englishman,  who, 
in  early  life  had  been  a  soldier,  but  who,  from  thirty  years 


160 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


Character  of  the  people. 


Antagonism  of  intelligence  and  Po{»ery. 


residence  among  the  French,  had  almost  lost  the  use  of  his 
native  language.  He  was  my  only  companion  ;  and  life 
without  society  soon  became  intolerably  dull. 

The  family  were  rigid  Catholics,  and  required  of  all 
their  domestics  the  strictest  conformity  to  the  outward 
formula  of  their  religion.  The  first  time  I  entered  their 
church,  being  ignorant  of  almost  all  their  ceremonies,  I  did 
as  is  done  in  all  Protestant  churches ;  seeing  myself  the 
object  of  the  laughter  of  the  people,  I  looked  around  to  di- 
vine the  cause,  when  I  saw  that  each  person,  as  he  entered, 
dipped  his  finger  in  a  basin  of  water,  and  crossed  liimseH 
with  it,  and  then,  in  a  mumbling  manner  repeated  an  un- 
known prayer :  afterwards,  though  it  was  somewhat  galling 
to  my  feelings,  and  was  evidently  wrong,  I  followed  their 
example,  and  ever  after  passed  currently  among  them  as  a 


good  Catholic. 

Much  might  be  said  of  the  character  and  morals  of  the 
people  among  whom  I  resided.  They  were  extremely  ig- 
norant, knowing  but  little  of  the  Deity,  or  of  themselues  ; 
they  went  to  their  worship  like  saints,  and  acted  like  devils 
on  their  return.  They  frequently  held  a  vendue  at  the 
church  doors  on  the  Sabbath,  the  priest  himself  being  some- 
times a  bidder  !  Sporting,  fiddling,  and  dancing,  were -their 
umuseme'us  after  the  solemnities  of  the  holy  day.  I  dis- 
covered no  common  schools  among  them,  nor  anything  that 
indicated  even  a  desire  to  gain  or  communicate  intelligence, 
and  but  a  very  few  of  them  could  either  read  or  write. 
But,  inquires  the  reader  how  came  they  into  this  deplorable 
condition?  The  answer  it;  clear  :  It  is  consistent  with  the 
very  genius  of  Popery  to  keep  the  mass  of  its  subjects  as 
ignorant  as  possible  ;  and  why  ?  Because,  like  despotism, 
it  can  only  exist  where  ignoraiice  reigns ;  and  therefore  the 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


161 


Fears  of  discovery. 


A  visitor  from  QiidK-c. 


wily  ecclesiastics  labor  to  prevent  the  growth  of  knowledge- 

Should  intelligence  universally  spread  among  the  Catho- 
lics, it  would  be  to  Popery  as  a  fearful  anathema — an  ex- 
ecuted curse.  How  carefully  do  they  hide  the  Bible  from 
the  open  gaze  of  their  people,  where  the  penetrating  eye  of 
Protestantism  does  not  watch  them,  and  expose  them  to  the 
public !  In  its  stead  tliey  demand  implicit  belief  in  the  say- 
ings of  unholy  priests,  whom,  with  the  pope,  the  lower 
classes  of  Catholics  believe  to  be  infallible.  How  easy  to 
lead  such  a  people  astray !  to  bind  chains  of  steel  upon 
their  limbs ! 

The  unsanctified  conduct  of  this  people,  together  with 
my  own  indecision,  broug'  t  me  into  a  backslidden  state, 
and  I  soon  lost  my  confid  ';nce  in  my  Savior ;  communion 
with  God  was  at  an  end.  O  sad  relapse,  in  so  short  a  time ! 
"Well  may  we  exclaim,  Alas,  poor  human  nature  ! 

Having  learned  that  the  farm  where  I  labored  belonged 
to  the  seminary  of  priests  at  Quebec,  I  became  alarmed  for 
my  safety  ;  especially  when  I  learned  that  they  frequently 
visited  the  farm,  and  as  I  knew  that  some  of  them  had  seen 
me  in  prison.  Other  causes  also  combined  to  excite  my 
fears.  My  clothing  bore  the  word  Jail,  or  rather  had 
borne  it,  in  large  letters  of  white  paint :  these  I  had  care- 
fully scraped  off  with  a  knife,  and  it  would  have  taken 
strict  and  close  scruitiny  to  discover  them.  To  remove  this 
dangerous  clew  to  my  real  character,  as  soon  as  my  wages 
were  sufficient,  I  purchased  some  very  common  garments, 
and,  retiring  into  the  woods,  buried  my  prison  clothing  deep 
in  the  ground,  beneath  the  roots  of  a  large  tree 

Another  little  incident  gave  me  extreme  uneasiness.  My 
employer  had  a  son  who  resided  at  Quebec,  but  Avho  occa- 
sionally visited  the  family.    As  he   could  speak   English 


vi'i 


i 


H  ?a.r. 


162 


LIFE     OP   WILLIAM   B.    LIGHTON. 


A  fellow-prisoner. 


The  prison  baker. 


very  fluently,  they  used  to  order  me  into  their  .'"oom  to  talk 
with  him  for  their  amusement.  Once  he  returned  almost 
immediately  after  a  visit,  and  my  fears  ever  alive,  construed 
his  return  into  a  discovery  of  my  relation  to  the  govern- 
ment. These  fears  were  wrought  to  the  Mghest  pitch, 
when  the  gentleman  called  me  and  said  I  must  go  in,  for 
his  son  had  brought  home  some  newspapers,  and  I  must 
read  them.  Suspecting  foul  play,  I  hesitated  whether  to 
obey  or  run  away ;  but  fearing  to  excite  suspicion,  I  obeyed 
his  wish,  determined,  if  detected,  to  struggle  mightily  for  my 
escape.  But  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm  ;  they  had  not 
the  remotest  suspicion  of  my  history,  and  the  papers  con- 
tained no  advertisements  concerning  my  escape  from  prison. 

Shortly  after  this  little  occurrence,  I  Avent  to  church  as 
usual  on  the  Sabbath,  where,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  I 
saw  a  gentleman  Avho  had  been  confined  for  debt  in  Quebec 
jail,  and  who,  of  course,  knew  me  perfectly  well.  Without 
betraying  my  feelings,  I  hastened  home  in  a  very  agitated 
and  painful  state  of  mind.  To  stay  there  any  longer  was 
dangerous,  and  to  leave  was  equally  so,  as  I  was  profoundly 
ignorant  of  the  geograj^hy  of  the  surrounding  country,  and 
had  no  way  of  crossing  the  St.  Lawrence  without  exposing 
my  life.  What  to  do  I  scarcely  knew,  but,  on  the  whole, 
determined  to  await  the  retiirn  of  the  doctor,  resolving  to 
keep  myself  as  retired  as  possible. 

The  next  Sabbath  I  declined  attending  church ;  but  the 
family  began  to  abuse  me  with  high  indignation  and  hard 
words,  calling  me  a  doa^  a  heathen,  &c.  To  escape  this  fire, 
I  accompanied  them,  though  with  a  palpitating  heart.  When 
arrived  there,  I  was  more  than  ever  confounded,  by  seeing 
the  baker  wIj  used  to  supply  the  prison  with  bread,  and 
who   had  frequently   seen   me.     As  before,  I  retired  with 


LIFE    OF    AVILLIAM    C.    LIGIITON". 


163 


Resolves  to  leavo. 


Now  Ciiuses  of  tear. 


An  !i<,'roo!ilil(3  surprixp. 


•ing  to 


seeing 


great  trepidation,  tor  lie  was  looking  towards  me  as  I  enter- 
ed ;  whether  he  recognized  nie,  or  not,  I  cannot  tell ;  bnt  it 
is  pretty  certain,  it'  I  iiad  reniaine  1,  that  he  would  have 
don(>  so,  and  the  froAvn ing  walls  ot"  {Quebec  jail  woukl  again 
haA'O  enclosed  my  weary  frame. 

Tiiese  repeated  alarms  determined  me  to  run  ofll'  into 
some  <)th(ir  part  of  the  country,  and  I  resolved  to  do  so,  that 
same  evening;  hut  while  sittin;:f  in  the  house,  meditatiii'j; 
u})on  my  plan,  two  hired  men  helojiglng  to  the  family  came 
in,  talking  together  in  French,  and  in  a  low,  cojilidential 
tone.  To  my  susi)ici(jus  mind,  it  see'med  as  it"  they  were" 
talking  about  the  absconding  of  two  men  from  prison,  whom 
they  suspected  to  be  the  doctor  and  myself.  Anxious  to 
understand  their  conversation,  I  crept  close  to  them,  when 
they  ceased  talking.  Leaving  them,  I  lay  down  on  my  bed, 
not  ijitending  to  undress,  but  to  get  up,  and  escape  from  their 
hands  in  the  ni;.dit;  but  soon  after,  thev  asked  me  if  I  had 
gone  to  bed.  I  told  them,  '"  No."  "  Then,"  said  they,  "you 
had  better  do  it." 

Fearing  from  this  remark  that  they  designed  to  watch 
me,  it  seemed  useless  to  attempt  to  get  av»'ay  that  night ;  so 
I  submitted  to  my  supposed  fate,  and  went  to  bed  to  sj)end  a 
very  unha})py  night ;  but  hearing  no  more  of  tlu'ir  talk,  I 
concluded  that  my  fears  were  the  mere  creations  of  my  own 
mind,  and  felt  more  at  ease,  until  my  em])loyer  asked  me, 
if  I  were  ever  a  soldier,  to  which  I  returned  a  disdainful 
negative. 

Those  circumstances  confirmed  me  in  my  conviction  of 
the  necessity  of  leaving  the  place;  and  hnpj)ily  I  soon  found 
an  opportunity.  While  busily  engaged  in  cliopi»iug  wood, 
one  of  tli(i  hired  men  came  running  towards  me  in  great 
haste,  and  said  in  French, 


i"i, 


li 

m 

•si 


"  r 


pill.  wu.p||i,gi|i I 


M<'P"'>,Wi«WI' 


i 


I 

ii 

ii 

I    h 
I 


I 


r    t 

"    y 
'i 


I' 


164 


L1F15   Of   WILLIJLM   B.   LIGIITON. 


The  doctor  relates  his  adventures. 


"  Thomas,  you  must  come  home ;  there  is  a  gentleman 
wants  to  see  you." 

"  "Who  is  it  wants  to  see  me  ?  "  I  responded,  while  an  al- 
ternate flush  of  heat  and  cold  passed  over  my  frame. 

"  A  gentleman,"  said  he  ;  "  who  it  is  I  can't  tell." 

Upon  this,  my  face  became  pale  as  death  with  agitation, 
which  the  man  perceiving,  said, 

« It  is  the  doctor." 

Not  understanding  him,  and  thinking  he  said  the  tiirnhey, 
my  terror  increased,  and  the  dictate  of  my  heart  was  to  run, 
when  the  man  again  said, 

"  It  is  the  doctor  who  came  here  with  you." 

This  was  news  indeed ;  it  scattered  all  my  fears  in  a  mo- 
ment, lighted  up  my  countenance  with  joy,  and  lifted  an 
intolerable  weight  from  my  soul.  With  haste  and  delight  I 
hurried  to  the  river-side,  where  he  still  remained  in  the  boat, 
ready  to  escape  if  my  character  had  been  detected.  Our 
joy  was  mutual ;  mine  was  almost  as  ecstatic  as  on  the  night 
of  my  escape ;  the  gratification  of  both  was  extreme,  and 
after  the  usual  inquiries  respecting  health,  <fcc.,  we  proceed- 
ed to  state  our  experiences  since  our  separation. 

The  doctor  had  been  down  the  St.  Lawrence  about  one 
hundred  miles.  While  practising  in  one  place,  he  was 
recognized  Jis  a  runaway  i)risoner  by  an  individual  who 
betrayed  his  knowledge  by  the  closeness  of  his  inquiries. 
To  pacify  him,  the  doctor  politely  promised  him  a  visit  the 
next  morning,  but  immediately  hired  a  man  to  conduct  him 
up  the  river  in  a  boat  that  night.  He  had  also  been  at 
Quebec  to  purchase  a  fresh  stock  of  medicine,  and  while  in 
the  act  of  purchasing,  the  jailer's  wife  entered  the  store  ;  it 
being  dark,  he  escaped  notice  by  turning  his  head  and  leaving 
the  sho^).     One  of  his  old  friends  informed  him  that  our 


cntleman 


ile  an  al- 
e. 


[igitation, 


turnkey, 
RS  to  run, 


in  a  mo- 
lifted  an 
delight  I 
the  boat, 
id.  Our 
the  night 
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LIFE  OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


105 


Arrival  al  Orleans. 


The  author  and  doctor  separate. 


unceremonious  deiRirturc  excited  a  mighty  uproar  in  tlie 
city  on  the  day  of  our  csca[)C,  and  thousands  of  citizens 
went  to  look  at  the  window  from  whence  we  descended. 

The  next  morning  I  left  my  employer,  and  we  proceeded 
to  the  ishmd  of  Orleans,  where  the  doctor  was  called  to 
attend  a  sick  lady,  and  where  he  intended  to  remain  for  some 
time  ;  he  wished  me  also  to  stay  with  him.  This  I  positively 
refused  to  do,  as  it  was  my  intention  to  reach  the  United 
States  as  soon  as  j)ossible.  Finding  he  could  not  prevail 
upon  me  to  stay,  the  next  morning  he  engaged  two  men  to 
carry  me  to  St.  Thomas,  a  distance  of  eight  miles. 

On  my  departure,  the  faithful  doctor,  with  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  gave  me  tlie  true  kiss  of  friendship,  and  wished 
LiC  peace  and  prosperity ;  in  return  I  thanked  him  for  his 
constant  kindness,  and  wished  him  corresponding  blessings. 
The  scene  was  interesting  :  it  was  friendship's  parting — ^the 
separation  of  hearts  which  grew  together  in  adversity.  As 
our  eyes  poured  forth  their  briny  streams,  our  hands  re- 
mained clasped,  as  if  unwilling  to  let  each  other  go.  At 
last  he  commended  me  to  the  care  of  Heaven,  and  we  parted 
— perhaps  forever. 

Never  will  that  hour  be  blotted  out  from  the  pages  of  my 
memory;  it  was  the  last  link  of  a  precious  friendship — a 
fricndtihip  genuine,  and  seldom  paralleled.  My  mind  loves 
to  dwell  upon  him  as  the  instrument  of  Divine  Proviilencc 
in  ejecting  my  deliverance  from  inlkmv,  destitution,  and 
suifering.  Xlie  singular  cirvumstance  that  first  united  us, 
the  success  we  met  with  on  the  niglit  of  our  escape,  and  this 
last  interposition,  all  conspire  to  convince  inr  that  he  \va« 
the  instrument  of  God's  mercy  in  my  behalf.  J>ong  as  I 
live,  his  name  and  fri<'n<lshi[>  will  live  in  my  remenibi  iince, 
and  the  siiicerest  gratitude  will  accompany  the  recollection. 


wmm 


16G 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   D.    LIGIITON. 


The  journey. 


Groiindlass  nlarm. 


Passes  Quebec. 


I  mi 


'/::ii' 


About  noon  I  landed  at  St.  Tlioma»,  and  travelled  on  to- 
wards Quebec,  though  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  Fear- 
ful of  discovery,  being  only  eighteen  miles  from  the  city,  I 
walked  but  slowly,  and  after  a  few  hours  secreted  myself  in 
the  woods,  intending  to  pass  Quebec  in  the  night.  Towards 
night  I  called  at  a  house,  and  procuring  refreslnnent,  pro- 
ceeded on  my  way.  It  was  now  dark  ;  not  a  noise  disturbed 
the  air,  but  all  was  hushed  in  siler.j  and  tranquility.  AVhile 
proceeding  on  my  journey,  I  suddenly  approached  a  female 
form  bowed  before  one  of  the  numerous  crosses  erected  on 
the  way-side ;  this  sight,  to  my  timid  feelings,  was  an  omen 
of  gladness  and  peace.  /         ' 

Coming  to  a  low  swamp,  I  was  greafly  alarmed  by  per- 
ceiving the  air  to  be  filled  with  almost  innumerable  sparks  : 
as  I  proceeded  they  increased,  until  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  woods  were  full  of  fire,  occasioned,  as  I  at  first  imagin- 
ed, by  the  dark  agency  of  the  devil.  As  the  sparks  flitted 
close  to  my  person,  I  at  length  mustered  sufficient  courage 
to  try  to  catch  one  with  my  hand.  This  effort,  after  repeated 
trials,  succeeded ;  and,  upon  examination,  I  found  it  to  be  a 
species  of  bug,  which,  fearing  it  were  poisonous,  I  threw 
away.  As  the  reader  is  aware,  this  was  nothing  but  the 
common  fire-fly,  or  lightning-bug,  which,  though  perfectly 
harmless,  and  to  native  Americans  familiar,  was  to  me  a 
perfect  stranger,  and  very  alarming. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  wae  opposite  the  city  of  my  imprison- 
ment, Quebec,  where  every  thing  was  calm  and  silent,  save 
the  waters  of  the  river,  which  smacked  playfully  against 
the  sides  of  the  vessels  tiiat  lay  at  anchor  in  the  noble  St. 
Lawrence.  Soon  it  lay  far  behind  me,  and  I  continued  my 
journey  unmolested,  save  by  the  numerous  and  savage  dogs, 
who  frequently  assailed  me,  to  my  no  small  disquietude  and 


if 
I 


ebec. 


I  on  to- 

Fear- 

city,  I 

yselt'  in 

'owardd 

nt,  pro- 

aturbed 

While 

I  female 

;cted  on 

m  omen 

by  per- 
sparks  : 
me  that 
imagin- 
is  flitted 
courage 
epeated 

to  be  a 
I  threw 

but  the 
3crfectly 
to  me  a 

iiprison- 
nt,  save 

against 
oble  St. 
lued  my 
ijio  dogs, 

udc  and 


A  pleasant  renconter. 


A  di«n(!recal>)c  renroiinter. 


discomfort.  The  next  morning  several  miles  stretched  their 
distance  between  me  and  the  city ;  but  still  fearing  appre- 
hension, I  i)rosecuted  my  journey  the  whole  of  the  next  day. 

At  the  end  of  two  days'  tedious  walking,  a  gentleman, 
who  spoke  English,  told  me  that  by  a  new  road  the  way  to 
the  United  States  was  much  ^liDrtcned.  Following  his  di- 
rections, I  arrived  about  noon  at  a  log-house,  where  T  stopped 
for  refreshment  and  rest.  This  hut — for  it  deserved  no 
higher  name — was  owned  by  an  Kngli^ma^n  from  Wakefield, 
near  Leeds,  in  Yorkshire.  We  met  as  countrymen  in  a 
strange  laud  ;  and,  being  both  from  the  same  part  of  the 
wave-washed  isle,  we  entered  into  a  very  animated  conversa- 
tion about  the  places  we  had  seen,  our  homes,  and  all  the  et 
ceteras  which  generally  engage  the  attention  of  wanderers 
in  a  distant  clime- 

While  thus  pleasantly  engaged,  we  were  interrupted  by  Pi 
man,  who,  after  asking  me  some  questions,  charged  me  with 
being  a  sailor,  and  with  having  run  away  from  my  ship.  In 
reply  to  my  denial,  he  cursed  and  swore  like  an  infidel, 
probably  supposing  he  might  terrify  me  into  a  confession, 
and  then  gain  a  few  dollars  by  securing  my  apprehension. 
Finding  this  trick  failed  him,  he  left  me  to  i)ursue  my  jour- 
ney, which  J.  speedily  recommenced  after  this  rencounter. 
Passing  through  a  piece  of  woods  thirteen  miles  in  length,  I 
put  up  at  a  log-cabin  for  the  night.  After  partaking  of  a 
little  coarse  food,  I  lay  down  upon  the  hard  floor  and  sought 
repose  ;  this,  however,  was  out  of  the  question,  such  was  the 
abundance  of  mosquitoes  and  black  flies  that  kept  up  their 
constant  attacks :  stern  necessity  drove  me  to  the  work  of 
self-defence  that  night,  and  robbed  me  of  the  refreshment  of 
sleep. 

My  road  wa:'  now   exceedingly  difficult ;  it  appeared  to 


m 


1C8 


LTFK    OF    ^VILLIAM    R.    LIOIITON, 


r.i'Cdmns  a  hired  niiin. 


A  nurniw  cscupo. 


Tho  hi)rnrt'«  nr-{. 


luivo  been  once  cnt  out,  and  n^^ain  overp^rovvn  with  iinder- 
l)i'iisli,  and  was  in  ni.'tny  jdaees  iin[)eded  by  nnincroiis  Avind- 
f'alls.  At  the  close  of  a  halt-day's  travel  the  road  tcnnina- 
tt'd,  and  I  was  bewildered  ;  after  awhile,  however,  the  track 
of  an  ox  was  discernible,  which  conducted  me  to  a  clearin,i»; ; 
in((uirin;if  at  the  honse,  they  informed  me  that  I  was  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  Francis  Kiver.  Thus  ended  a  journey  of 
twenty-six  miles  througli  the -woods. 

Seven  shillini^s  and  sixpence  >  comprised  my  whole  ex- 
cbequer  when  the  doctor  and  myself  parted ;  this  was  now 
exhausted,  and  it  appeared  essential  to  replenish  it  as  early 
ns  practicable ;  and  as  it  was  many  miles  to  Quebec,  and  in 
«  swnewhat  retired  part  of  the  country,  it  appeared  to  me 
that  it  was  politic  to  seek  employment.     With  this  view,  I 

let  myself  to  a  man  named  Abercrombie,  in  K ,  twelve 

miles  below  Shipton. 

Here,  venturing  somewhat  rashly  into  the  St.  Francis,  I 
narrowly  escaped  drowning — an  accident  which  produced  a 
temporaiy  seriousness,  and,  by  calling  up  mj  former  experi- 
ence, led  me  to  pray  a  few  times ;  but  my  impressions 
passed  like  oil  over  marble,leaving  no  permanent  impression. 

The  following  anecdote  may  be  amusing  to  the  reader. 
"Walking  one  day  through  the  woods,  on  an  errand  for  my 
employer,  musing  on  various  topics,  I  espied  something  in 
the  bushes  that  looked  very  curious  ;  supposing  it  to  be  a 
knot  on  one  of  the  young  trees,  and  anxious  to  secure  it  for 
a  w^alking-stick,  I  placed  my  hand  upon  it  to  see  whether  it 
■was  of  a  convenient  size,  and  to  ascertain  its  solidity  ;  in 
doing  this,  the  ball  broke  beneath  the  pressure  of  my  hand, 
and  a  host  of  angry  hornets  stung  me  in  the  forehead,  in 
revenge  for  my  assault  upon  their  nest. 

This  little  incident  led.  me  to  indulsre  in  manv  useful 


1' 


tWR    OV'    WILLIAM    ft.    LIGttTOX. 


T)0 


undor- 
s  M'iii<l- 
crnnina- 
le  track 
earini!; ; 
a  on  tlie 
irney  of 

lole  ex- 
vas  now 
as  early 
,  and  in 
id  to  me 
view,  I 
-,  twelve 

pancis,  I 
)duced  a 
*  experi- 
►ressions 
iression. 
5  reader. 

for  my 
jthing  in 

to  be  a 
ire  it  for 

ether  it 
dity  ;  in 

y  liand, 

head,  in 


RoachoM  tliP  Unltf'd  St;itPJ». 


An  old  (losin*  urn  tilled. 


Tcflcftions ;  thn;*,  tlioiijjfht  I,  are  nxni  iilliired  hy  the  fasruia- 
titij^  a])i)oai'an('('  of  the  worhl ;  tlicy  gras|»  al'u-r  it  as  for  a 
))riz(',  and  ere  they  are  aware,  they  are  .stmi;^  to  llu^  very 
(luick  l>y  tlie  vi[)er.s  it  eonceals.  The  worhl  is  a  hornet's 
nest,  and  its  stiii^  will  ruin  the  immortal  soul,  if  it  h(,'  not 
healed  hy  the  i)reeions  halm  of  (lilead. 

Ahont  the  20th  of  October  I  lei't  my  employer,  and  pro- 
eeeded  towards  the  United  States;  bnt,  reflectinij  on  my 
need  of  more  elothini^,  at  the  end  of  a  day's  travel  I  a;iain 
let  mypelf.  There  I  remained  .about  six  weeks,  when  I 
again  set  out  for  the  States,  resolving  not  to  stop  shoi-t  of 
reaching  that  soil  of  freedom.  In  two  days  I  crossed  the 
boundary  line  that  divides  the  Canadas  from  the  United  States 
of  America  •  and  so  rejoiced  did  1  feel  for  the  consciousness 
that  my  feet  pressed  the  sods  of  Columbia,  that  I  would  fain 
have  kissed  the  soil  on  which  I  stood.  Now,  said  my  hope- 
ful imagination,  liberty  and  happiness  await  me  under  the 
protection  of  the  eagle's  wing — a  feeling  none  can  know 
who  have  not  felt  the  pressure  of  the  paw  of  the  lion. 

The  desire  which  had  been  lighted  up  in  my  young  bosom 
in  the  earlier  periods  of  my  life,  had  never  been  extinguished 
by  the  floods  and  trials  through  which  I  had  passed,  but  it 
had  brightened,  and  burned  vigorously  up  to  the  moment 
that  gave  birth  to  my  republican  liberty.  Unto  God,  who 
guided  me  by  his  omnipotent  hand,  be  endless  praises  ! 

X5* 


V  useful 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 

Corporation 


4 


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23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WiBSTIR.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)872-4303 


4^ 


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■•"W^WPW 


.  ', 


,  ■    *     ^ 


CHAPTER  IX. 


•t"' 


'■*     I 


"  Thy  Ijearth,  thy  home,  thy  vintage  lanu, 
The  voices  of  thy  kindred  band, 
O  I  midst  them  all,  when  blest  thou  art, 
Deal  gently  with  the  Btranger's  heart." 

■    .'    .     ;:     .1.        ♦  .      ■  .         Hemans. 


V  .t^A 


"f. 


i  To  the  reader  who  has  patiently  toiled  with  me  through 
the  numdmus  changes  and  trials  of  my  past  life,  I  shall 
offer  no  apology  for  conducting  him  through  another  chap- 
ter, by  giving  him  a  brief  account  of  the  providences  which 
have  befallen  me  up  to  the  present  time.       *     >  -  '^v  tj    x 

Having  resumed  my  original  and  proper  name,  I  deter- 
mined, as  I  trod  the  conlinea  of  the  republic,  to  begin  my 
life  anew,  and  to  regulate  my  conduct  by  the  strictest  prin- 
ciples o^  virtue  and  integrity.  To  facilitate  my  design,  I 
resolved  to  learn  a  trade,  as  my  a^,e  was  only  twenty  yearb. 
For  this  purpose  it  appeared  proper  to  direct  my  steps  to- 
wards the  Atlantic  cities,  as  affording  the  greatest  facilities 
for  the  accomplishment  of  my  purpose  ;  but  shortly  after, 
arriving  at  Waterford  in  Vermont,  a  gentleman  told  me 
that  a  fellow-countryman  resided  about  two  miles  from  the 
village,  named  Furby,  a  cabinet-maker.  Accordingly  I 
called  upon  him  in  the  morning,  and  partook  of  his  early 
meal.  At  first  he  felt  disposed  to  engage  me  as  his  ap- 
prentice ;  bu;  being  ignorant  of  my  character,  he  declined. 
He  advised  me  to  call  upon  another  Englishman,  who  lived 
in  the  village,  named  Bellamy,  a  Methodist  preacher  by 
profession.  *      • 

Calling  upoa  Mr.  Bellamy,  and  stating  to  him  my  de- 


LIFE   OP  "WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


171 


11. 

li! 


The  author  becomes  nn  apprentice. 


ly  de- 


sire, he  gave  me  a  very  cordial  reception ;  and  a  warm  at- 
tachment, such  as  countrymen  should  ever  feci,  was  soon 
mutually  conceived.  He  told  me  of  an  opportunity  to  ac- 
quire the  saddler's  business,  as  one  Mr.  Cobb  wanted  an 
apprentice  to  that  trade.  The  next  day  I  waited  on  Mr. 
Cobb,  and  he  agreed  to  take  me  a  month  on  trial.  At  the 
expiration  of  that  term,  if  both  parties  were  satisfied,  he 
was  to  take  me  as  his  apprentice.  The  month  expired,  and 
we  formed  an  agreement,  by  which  he  was  to  teach  me  his 
business,  on  condition  of  my  devoting  three  years  of  my 
life  to  his  service.  ' 

While  in  this  place,  my  mind  was  powerfully  o»-'>used 
to  a  consideration  of  my  spiritual  danger — to  a  sense  of 
guilt  for  having  wandered  from  the  good  and  the  right  way. 
So  strong  and  deep  were  the  monitions  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
that  rest  forsook  my  heart,  and  per,ce  and  sleep  fled  from 
my  pillow,  and  eft  me  a  sinner,  wretched  and  forlorn.  By 
promising  to  be  pious  at  some  distant  day,  my  heart,  my 
wicked  heart  labored  to  evade  the  force  of  these  convict- 
ions,  despite  of  my  fears  and  alarms  lest,  after  all,  I  should 
everlastingly  perish.  Thi^s  many  weeks  witnessed  my  in- 
decision, until,  in  the  month  of  September,  when,  at  a  camp- 
meeting  held  at  Concord,  Vermont,  about  four  miles  from 
Waterford,  my  mind  was  led  by  Divine  Goodness  to  decide 
to  seek  religion  at  once,  as  the  great  essential  of  my  life. 
I  thought  I  would  obtain  this  precious  blessing  before  the 
close  of  the  meeting,  if  it  could  be  obtained  by  effort.      •   ' 

On  the  second  day  of  the  meeting,  I  attended  in  company 
with  Thomas  Bellamy,  a  son  of  Mr.  B.,  who  has  since  be- 
come an  able  minister  of  the  New  Testament.  He  was  al- 
so a  backslider,  and  such  was  his  indisposition  to  serious 
things,  that  we  soon  parted  company  after  our  arrival  at 


^P^^I^WPPBPP 


^pp 


ipai 


172 


LIFE    OP    WILLIAM   B.    LIOHTON. 


L^crioii'i  i(!<^rMi|;s. 


The  ciirnp  inceliiiR. 


!*    I 


I 


the  pliiv-o  of  prayer.  The  solemn  appeals  of  the  preach- 
ers pi«'r(M*(l  my  heart  and  inereas(;d  the  fronhle  of  my  mind 
to  such  a  (h'lxree,  ms  made  me  feel  forsaken  of  God  and 
man.  I  rctin  d  into  the  woods  to  pray,  but  was  followed 
by  an  overpowering  temptation,  which  whispered,  "  Your 
sins  are  too  great  to  be  forgiven  ;  and  if  you  dai-e  to  pray, 
the  Almighty  will  crush  you  in  a  moment !"  IJut  the  re- 
membrance of  the  precious  pmmises  contained  in  the  Bible 
scattered  tlie  temptation,  and  encouraged  my  mind,  as  it 
heard  the  Savior,  say  in  his  word,  "^  Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
given  you  ;  seek,  and  you  shall  find ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you."  Kneeling  beside  a  log,  I  prayed,  but 
without  experiencing  any  special  relief  or  consolation. 

At  a  class-meeting  held  that  evening  in  the  Lancaster 
tent,  an  invitaion  was  given  to  those  who  were  anxious  for 
their  souls'  salvation,  to  manifest  it  by  going  forward  for 
prayers.  At  first,  none  arose,  although  the  tent  was  crowd- 
ed with  persons  yet  in  their  sins :  at  last,  rising  from  my 
feet,  I  told  the  peo{)le  that  /  was  determined  to  get  religion 
if  it  were  to  be  obtained ;  many  others  then  came  forward, 
and  w?,  all  joined  in  solemn  prayer  to  God  the  Father  of 
Spirits  ;  many  found  peace,  and  went  away  rejoicing.  My 
mind  though  not  wholly  relieved,  was  comforted,  and  I  left 
the  tent  deei)ly  convinced  of  the  value  of  religion,  and  the 
necessity  of  speedily  obtaining  it.  -  •         '    •     ' "      ''- ' 

On  my  way  home,  I  reflected  on  my  newly-formed  re- 
solves, and  felt  more  strongly  confirmed  in  my  determina- 
tion to  perform  them  forthwith.  From  that  night  I  began 
to  practise  the  duties  of  Christianity,  and  to  cultivate  a 
further  acquaintance  with  the  word  of  God.  Not  having 
much  leisure  to  devote  to  study,  I  used  to  spend  some  time 
every  night  after  nine  o'clock  reading  the  Bible  on  my 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


173 


The  backslider  ro:»torc(l. 


Unites  with  the  niclhfjdlsts. 


knees — an  employment  whicli  proved  to  be  very  instructive 
and  profitable.  ,    ^^  *  *     ^   ,    •  '"' 

To  assist  me  in  improving  my  mind,  my  friend  Mr.  B. 
permitted  me  to  lodge  at  his  house,  and  have  access  to  his 
library — a  privilege  I  indulged  until  midnight:  As  my  ex- 
perience increased,  my  unbelief  gave  way,  and  I  obt'iined  a 
clear  and  undoubted  evidence,  that  God,  for  Christ's  sake, 
had  blotted  out  my  sins,  and  adopted  me  into  his  family. 
O,  bless  the  Lord  for  his  pardoning  mercy — for  his  renew- 
ing gmce.  Truly  my  soul  was  a  brand  plucked  out  of  the 
fire.     O,  glory  to  God  !    Hallelujah  to  the  lamb ! 

Being  desirous  of  attaching  myself  to  the  visible  church 
of  my  Master,  and  conceiving  the  doctrines  and  usages  of 
the  Methodists  to  be  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  spirit 
and  doctrines  of  the  gcf'pel,  I  was  received  into  the  class  at 
"Waterford,  on  the  usual  probation  of  six  months,  by  the 
Rev.  Chauncy  Richardson.  "    •.  '     '  ''^ 

Continuing  to  study  the  way  of  Salvation,  and  to  medi- 
tate on  the  state  of  a  perishing  world,  my  heart  burned 
with  a  desire  to  warn  poor  sinners  to  flee  from  the  ^vrath  to 
come ;  and  by  punctually  attending  every  means  of  grace, 
and  by  praying  and  exhorting  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  my 
poor  heart  was  greatly  blessed  and  watered  by  the  Great 
Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  the  Bishop  of  souls.  V     '  >' 

On  one  occasion  Providence  called  me  to  visit  an  aged 
gentleman  and  lady,  who  were  both  on  the  borders  of  the 
grave.  My  labors  with  them  were  greatly  blessed,  both  to 
their  souls  and  my  own ;  they  were  both  awakened,  and 
led  back  to  him  from  whom  thoy  had  wandered.  This,  and 
other  circumstances,  moved  me  to  ask  if  it  were  not  my 
duty  to  improve  my  gift  in  public ;  and  my  mind  was  soon 
impressed  with  a  strong  conviction  that  it  was  my  duty  to 


174 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIOHTON. 


Removes  to  Bradrurd. 


The  author  is  desirous  to  prench. 


'y^ 


preach  the  everlasting  gospel.  My  weakness  and  ignorance 
made  me  shrink  from  the  task ;  but  I  nevertheless  deter- 
mined  to  seek  out  the  will  of  Grod,  by  watching  the  open- 
ings of  Providence,  and  also  to  follow  that  will,  whatever 
it  might  be. 

The  following  February  Mr.  Cobb  and  myself  parted  by 
mutual  agreement,  and  I  left  Waterford  to  seek  further 
employment  At  Bradford,  Vt.,  I  found  business  in  the 
shop  of  a  Mr.  Corliss.  By  presenting  my  certificate  the 
class  received  me  into  its  bosom,  the  first  Sabbath  after  my 
arrival.  Here  I  enjoyed  many  blessed  privileges  amoiig 
my  Christian  brethren,  especially  in  the  family  of  my  em- 
ployer, the  heads  of  which  were  sincere  and  devoted  follow- 
ers of  the  Savior.  Among  my  other  advantages  was  the 
use  of  the  town  library,  which  was  kept  at  my  employer's 
house,  he  being  librarian. 

During  my  stay  in  this  place,  my  mind  was  again  power- 
fully exercised  upon  the  subject  of  preaching,  and  the  more 
I  resisted  the  impression,  the  stronger  it  became.  After 
much  fervent  prayer,  I  disclosed  my  feelings  to  those  who 
knew  me  best,  and  they  thought  it  to  be  my  duty  to  go 
forward.  Still  I  was  unwilling,  my  talents  and  information 
were  so  limited  ;  when  it  was  suggested  that  many  able 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  whose  talents  and  services  now  do 
honor  to  the  church  and  themselves,  began  young  and  fee- 
ble as  myself,  but  who,  by  pursuing  a  course  of  untiring 
study,  and  by  the  aid  of  divine  giace,  had  risen  to  celebrity 
and  usefulness.  Encouraged  by  such  considerations,  I  di- 
vulged my  feelings  and  views  to  the  Rev.  P.  C.  Richmond, 
the  preacher  in  charge,  who  advised  me  to  go  forward 
and  improve  in  exhortation  and  prayer.  He  then  furnished 
me  with  his  written  permission  to  exercise  my  gift  as  an 
exhorter. 


n"i 


LIFE    OP   WILLIAM   B.   LIOIITON. 


175 


The  first  sermon. 


ReinovHl  to  Lisbon. 


Bludies. 


more 
After 
who 
to  go 
mation 
y  able 
low  do 
id  fee- 
ntiring 
ebrity 
I  di- 
imond, 
)rward 
nished 
as  an 


Having  now  no  excuse  for  further  refraining  from  duty, 
an  appointment  for  a  meeting  was  made  for  me  in  the  vil- 
lage for  a  week-day  evening  lecture.  When  the  day  ar- 
rived, the  clergyman  of  a  neighboring  church  called  at  my 
shop,  and  after  transacting  his  business  with  my  employer, 
he  turned  to  me  and  questioned  me  rather  sarcastically 
about  my  preaching  that  evening.  He  told  me  I  had  bet- 
ter attend  some  theological  institution  before  I  attempted  to 
preach,  together  with  many  other  things  to  discourage  and 
deter  me  from  going  forward  in  my  duty.  Though  some- 
what staggered  by  his  attack  at  first,  I  determined,  on  re- 
flection, to  make  the  attempt,  believing  the  grace  of  God  in 
a  warm  heart  to  be  a  greater  assistance  than  all  the  learn- 
ing of  books  and  colleges,  which,  however,  I  believe  to  be 
greatly  advantageous  to  a  gospel  minister. 

That  evening  I  entered  the  sacred  desk  with  much  tre- 
pidation, and  spoke  to  a  large  and  attentive  congregation, 
from  Mark  x.  17  :  "  Good  master,  what  shall  I  do  that  I 
may  inherit  eternal  life  ?  "  The  Lord  was  manifestly  pre- 
sent, and  blessed  me  abundantly ;  and  from  that  time  to  the 
present  I  have  continued  to  labor  in  the  vineyard  of  my 
blessed  Redeemer,  as  faithfully  as  my  small  abilities  have 
permitted. 

From  Bradford  I  removed  to  Lisbon,  N.  H.,  and  entered 
the  employ  of  Mr.  Stevens,  on  Sugar  Hill,  the  28th  of  the 
following  May.  Here  there  was  no  class  of  Methodists 
within  five  miles,  and  I  was  conse'quently  deprived  of  the 
fellowship  of  my  brethren.  However,  I  devoted  myself  to 
the  duties  of  my  profession  with  the  utmost  punctuality* 
and,  having  been  received  into  full  membership  by  the 
church  at  Lisbon,  and  had  my  couiniission  renewed  as  an 
exhorter,  I  went  forward  procluiming  the  Lamb  of  God  un- 


^,  ■;■ 


•   i 


:.\ 


176 


LIFE    OF  WILLI/    I   B.    LIOIITON. 


Ti^mptntioriH. 


The  drunkard. 


m  Si 


f '  !i 
'.I 


to  all  who  came  in  my  way.  To  incrca-sc  iny  qualifications, 
I  adopted  a  systematic  course  of  living ;  devoting  my 
business  hours  strictly  to  my  employer,  and  my  leisure  to 
the  improvement  of  my  mind  by  study.  As  an  assistant,  I 
procured  a  copy  of  Dr.  Adam  Clarke's  invaluable  Com- 
mentary, together  with  some  other  theological  works,  which 
gave  me  much  important  information.    ,         i       ^  . 

So  reserved  were  my  manners,  that  many  doubtless  took 
occasion  to  think  me  scornful  or  proud,  though  my  reserve 
originated  in  a  desire  to  prevent  myself  from  being  drawn 
away  by  the  example  and  conversation  of  the  ungodly,  who 
surrounded  mc  on  every  Iiand.  This  caution  was  doubly 
necessary  from  th^fact  that  Mr.  S.  sold  spirituous  liquors, 
which  drew  into  his  shop  many  wicked  and  profane  men, 
who,  Avhen  the  fumes  of  their  drams  had  filled  their  brains, 
talked  over  their  grog-shop  divinity  until  their  conversation 
was  loathsomely  disgusting.  How  often  the  debased  drunk- 
ard, poor  and  penniless,  talked  as  if  he  wei-e  a  wealthy  man, 
a  profound  statesman,  or  a  devoted  Christian  !     » 

What  a  miserable  picture  of  depravity  does  a  drunkard 
present  to  the  observing  eye !  Should  the  drunkard  see 
this,  he  is  entreated  to  pause  and  reflect  upon  his  character 
and  prospects.  Considoi',  dear,  deluded  one,  that  l>y  drunken- 
ness you  lower  yourself  beneath  the  poor  brute  whose  labor 
furnishes  you  with  the  means  of  indulging  your  appetite. 
Think ;  you  are  murdering  your  soul,  and  ruining  your 
family,  if,  indeed,  you  have  not  done  it  already.  Let  con- 
science speak,  and,  as  she  speaks,  give  ear  and  turn  your  feet 
into  the  right  way,  and  thou  shalt  save  thy  blood-bought  soul 
from  hell.  O,  may  the  haj)py  day  soon  arrive  when  this 
"  liquid  Jlrc,"  this  "  distilled  damnation,'" — for  it  deserves 
no  better  name,— shall  be  banished  into  tue  oblivious  deep. 


Ml 

11 


'ations, 
iig  my 
sure  to 
staiit,  I 
e  Coni- 
»  which 

2SS  took 
reserve 
r  drawn 
ily,  who 
doubly 
liquors, 
lie  men, 
L-  brains, 
crsation 
i  drunk- 
hy  man, 

runkard 
ard  see 
iiaracter 
runken- 
•sc  labor 
ippctite. 
)g  your 
iC't  t'on- 
[our  feet 
[gilt  soul 
n  this 
cserves 
lis  deei), 


'^ 


lit 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITON. 


177 


Billy  rc|Nirt8. 


liinifUnes*. 


from  whence  may  it  never  more  return  to  intoxicate  the 
brains  of  men !  .     -"  •  '*   '-^ 

Thus  beset  by  profane  characters,  I  couW  but  frequently 
ailministcr  the  word  of  reproof,  for  which  they  returned  me 
volleys  of  fearful  oaths  and  drea<lful  imprecations,  though 
ultimately  it  prevented  some  of  them  from  swearing  in  my 
pi*esence.  *  •  '•'     ■'    ''- 

Another  and  most  strange  source  of  persecution  wa   my 
adherence  to  study,  which  many  thought  to  be  inconsistent 
with  the  character  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel ;  'Contending 
that  he  ought  to  preach  entirely  by  inspiration !     These 
ignorant  jwrsons  circulated  a  report  that  I  had  a  large  nun:- 
ber  of  prayer  and  sermor.  books,  from  which  I  committed  to 
memory  all  my  public  in.provements.     This  silly  report, 
though  it  injured  me  for  a  time,  soon  met  with  its  deserved 
fate.     Though  deprived  of  the  fellowship  of  my  brethren  in 
the  church  of  my  choice,  yet  I  enjoyed  many  privileges  with 
my  Free-will  Baptist  friends,  whose  evidences  of  brotherly 
love  and  affection  I  shall  ever  remeaber.     But  this  love 
and  fellowship  at  length  declined,  as  was  apparent  by  the 
conduct  of  many.     The  occasion  of  this  declension  I  could 
never  imagine,  unless  it  was  that  they  believe<l  the  false  re- 
ports concerning   my  prayer  and  sermon  books.     Of  any 
other  cause  I  was  never  sensible,  as,  on  a  strict  examination 
of  all  my  conduct,  I  could  discover  nothing  in  word  or  action 
that  could  be  construed  into  a  just  ground  of  oflfcnce. 

These  circumstances  were,  however,  a  source  of  trial  to 
my  mind,  and  I  looked  aix>und  in  vain  amon^;  the  hundreds 
who  surrounded  me  for  a  companion ;  amid  them  all  I  was 
alone  and  solitary ;  and  I  naturally  sighed  for  an  opportunity 
to  change  my  relation  in  life,  and  seek  a  partner  who  should 

relieve  my  loneliness  ;  for  now,  there  were  none  into  whose 

16 


I' 


I      ^- 


178 


LIKE     OK   WILLIAM  0.   LIGtltON, 


Writes  home.      A  lnvc«l  ncqunintance.      Marriage.      A  letter  from  England 


>-r 


bosoms  I  could  pour  out  my  sorrows,  from  wliose  «ymputhif»s 
encouragement  could  be  derived,  or  with  whom  I  could 
claim  kindred.     Like  the  poet,  I  could  L'uy, 

'     >      "  There  are  no  friends  or  fathers  here,       ,    ... 

Nor  spouses  kind  to  sniile  on  me  ; 
,         .     A  brother's  voice  I  cannot  hear  ; 
A  mother's  form  I  never  see  ; 
A  sister's  love  I  may  not  share. 
While  here  ill  ex;7e  still  I  roam. 
"■     -   '   '.'     0,  could  I  breathe  my  native  air     ..r 
Beneath  that  dear  ancestral  dome, 
,,  "'  ■       .  I'd  rest  content  >_ 

Till  life  was  spent. 
Nor  sc^ek  abroad  a  better  home." 


■  W ' 


"■4 


About  this  time,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  my  parents,  informing 
them  of  my  state  and  pro-ipects,  and  cxpcstulating  with 
them  for  their  suj)posed  neglect  in  not  answering  my  previ- 
ous letters,  supi)osing  they  had  not  ansAvered  them,  through 
being  offended  with  my  former  conduct ;  this,  however, 
proved  not  to  be  the  case,  as  will  hereafter  appear. 

As  I  continued  to  improve  my  gift,  my  acquaintance  with 
neighboring  families  enlarged.  Among  my  especial  ac- 
quaintance was  the  family  of  Mr.  N.  Judd,  who,  although 
they  ranked  among  the  mediocrity  of  the  honest  and  indus- 
trious, were  rich  in  faith,  and  in  the  knowlec  ge  of  divine 
things.  My  first  introduction  to  this  family  was  in  the  month 
of  August,  1827,  and  in  April  following,  I  was  married  to 
Susannah,  their  daughter.         i^"  .     '      - '  «•       *'         *■ 

A  few  weeks  previous  to  my  marriage,  a  gentleman  in- 
formed me  that  there  was  a  letter  in  the  post-office  for  me, 
and  as  it  was  directed  to  North  America,  he  concluded  that 
it  was  from  England.    Hastening  to  obtain  it,  it  proved  to 


L    -E    OP   WILLIAM    B.    LICIITON. 


179 


A  letter. 


be  from  ray  father ;  and  us  it  may  give  the  reader  an  idea 
of  his  feelings,  it  is  lierc  inserted. 

"  Frampton,  Decemfcer  1,  1827. 

"My  dear  Son,  ,      »     ,  ..... 

"  I  received  your  letter,  dated  October  6th,  1827, 
and  I  am  very  much  surprised  that  you  have  not  received 
any  letter  from  nic,  which  is  the  cause  of  your  most  unhappy 
com[)laint.  I  liave  received  many  letters  from  you,  to  which 
I  have  immediately  sent  answers.  Your  information  that 
you  have  not  received  any  since  you  left  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
gives  me  but  poor  satisfactian.  The  cause  of  those  failures 
is,  no  doubt,  owing  to  the  great  distance  which  sei)^rates  us 
from  each  other ;  and  my  letters  have  probably  been  lost  on 
the  way.  ,..    «  ,    ' 

*•  Dc'sir  soil,  yoiir  request  has  been  gratified,  in  that  I  have 
attentively  pciMsod  your  letter ;  and  in  the  first  place,  I 
commend  you  to  God,  and  pray  earnestly  that  he  may  be 
your  guide,  protector,  and  redeemer ;  tliat  you  may  honor 
and  fear  him  all  your  life,  be  a  useful  and  dignilied  member 
of  society,  and,  eventually,  that  we  may  all  meet  in  heaven, 
where  nothing  shall  separate  us  from  th'it  union  and  felicity 
which  have  been  purchased  for  us  by  our  blessed  IJedoemer. 

"  Let  me  also  affectionately  advise  you,  as  you  have  es- 
caped your  unpleasant  condition  and  situation,  for  one  of  a 
more  social  and  endearing  character,  to  i)reserye  it  with 
deep-felt  gratitude.  Use  every  effort  to  make  it  agreeable 
to  you,  and  be  content  in  those  fortunate  circumstances  in 
which  providence  and  the  mercy  of  God  have  placed  you. 

"  You  will  accept  the  ardent  love  and  best  wishes  of  your 
parents,  and  also  the  same  sentiment  of  respect  from  all  the 
family.    We  should  be  glad  to  see  you  return  to  your  native 


"^^^W"!^'       # 


ISO 


T-.~:  v,-? 


LIPR   OP  WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTOK. 


^•% 


BecniiiOT  n  raniier. 


DiMiimCic  happlnent. 


51 

I  hi,. 


• 

s5 


land^  which  may  God  grant.  This  leaves  us  all  enjoying 
good  beftlth,  except  your  mother,  whose  weak  constitution 
obligei)  me  to  say  that  at  times  her  health  is  rery  precarious. 

Your  cousin,  James  L ,  of  S  ,  died  about  twelve 

months  ago.     Your  brother  J is  no  better  of  his 

lameness.  May  this  find  you  in  the  enjoyment  of  health ; 
and,  O,  may  God  bo  with  my  transmarine  son !  and  bless 
and  save  you  io  his  heavenly  kingdom,  which  is  the  prayer 
of,  dear  son, 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"William  Ligiiton." 
'^  Tlie  peiTTsal  of  this  letter  had  no  small  influence  over  my 
feelings ;  it  was  the  first  news  I  had  received  from  my  dear 
parents  for  seven  loiig  years  ;  it  relieved  me  of  the  idea  that 
they  did  not  care  for  my  welfare,  which  had  long  been  a 
load  of  son-ow  on  my  heart.  Since  that  time,  I  have  re- 
ceived two  or  three  comniunieations  from  lliem  every  year; 
and  nothing  subsists  between  us  but  feelings  of  the  most 
l)crfeet  friendship  and  cordial  affection. 

My  term  of  hire  having  expired,  I  went  to  live  with  my 
wife's  father,  according  to  a  i)revious  agreement ;  and,  as  he 
was  considerably  advanced  in  life,  and  somewhat  infirm  in 
body,  I  took  his  farm,  and  agreed  to  support  him  and  his 
partner  through  life:  in  addition  to  the  farm,  I  received 
ninety-six  dolhirs  a  year,  being  the  amount  of  a  pension  he 
received,  as  a  reward  for  services  rendered  during  the  revo- 
lutionary war. 

Thus  situated,  we  lived  in  the  most  harmonious  and  happy 
manner,  a  perfect  contrast  to  the  misery  of  my  former  days. 
Then  I  was  the  subject  of  the  most  inexpressible  hardshii)s, 
doomed  to  bear  the  frowns  of  tyrants,  and  the  insults  of 
covetous  masters ;  now,  thanks  to  a  merciful  Pi-ovidence,  I 


ii  i. 

11 


^.^. 


*    .St 


Ml.. 


ffrf^. 


plnem. 

jnjoying 
stitution 
cftriouf. 
t  twelve 
•  of  his 
health ; 
fid  bless 
prayer 


11 


ON/ 

ver  my 
ny  dear 
lea  that 
been  a 
ave  re- 
y  year ; 
le  most 

'ith  my 
I,  as  he 
irm  in 
and  his 
3ceived 
?ion  lie 
(3  revo- 


happy 
r  days, 
dships, 
mlts  of 
apce,  I 


# 


'1 

ii 
V-  ' 

i  ■■ ' 

i ': 

i:' 

»'  t 


m 


I, 


I 


It 


N 


X 


Uj 


i 


•s*^--^ 


LIFE   OP   WlLtlAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


181 


Another  letter. 


The  letter. 


N 


i 


v^     ^ 


\ 

i 

^ 


•i  •^ 


^ 


wa8  freed  from  my  oppressors,  had  a  happy  home,  and 
enjoyed  the  best  of  human  comforts,  a  pious  and  godly  com^ 
panion,  who  was  dear  to  me  as  my  own  soul.  Added  to 
this,  I  was  amid  friends,  whose  generous  kindness  will  ever 
endear  them  to  my  memory,  and  had  neighbors,  who  had  a 
high  regard  for  the  things  of  God,  and  whose  hearts  Avere 
touched  with  a  Savior's  love.  These  were  blessings  once 
foreign  to  my  expectations,  but  now  enjoyed  in  fond  reality. 
Ojwhat  shall  I  render  to  God  "or  all  his  goodness  towards  nie  ? 
A  few  months  after  I  wrote  my  answer  to  my  father's 
fii*st  letter,  I  received  the  following  from  him,  which  I  beg 
leave  to  insert,  as  it  breathes  so  mucli  of  the  spirit  of  affec- 
tion and  love : — 

"  Frampton,  Ekg.,  October  15, 1828. 
"  Dear  Son, 

"  Your  kind  letter  was  received  with  great  pleasure, 
and,  O,  what  inexpressible  joy  I  have  had  in  perusing  it,  to 
find  that  you  received  my  letters  at  last,  after  the  numbers  I 
have  sent  these  seven  years  I  It  affords  me  much  happiness 
to  find  you  are  enjoying  good  health,  and  also  that  you  are 
married ;  but  above  all  it  fills  my  soul  with  the*  greatest 
possible  satisfaction  to  hear  that  you  love  your  God  and 
Savior,  and  feel  a  deep  interest  for  his  glory.     O,  may  the 

Lord  bless  and  preserve  you  unto  his  holy  kingdom. 

*         *         *         m         «         «  If         #' 

"  I  should  like  to  accept  your  invitation  and  emigrate  to 
America,  but  my  komef  my  native  isle,  has  a  charm  almost 
too  powerful  to  admit  of  a  separation,  in  this  my  advanced 
stage  of  life.  As  yet,  I  know  not  how  I  shall  act.  I  am 
not  able  to  determine,  at  present,  so  as  to  give  you  a  satis- 
factory answer,  but  return  you  my  sincere  thanks  for  your 
endemess  towards  me.        *        ♦        •        »        * 

16* 


^ 


v.. 


] 


1 


4 


182 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.  LIGHTOX. 


Hr^ 


The  uuthor  licenced  to  proiich. 


More  communication!!  from  England. 


"In  closing  this,  I  commend  you  to  Almighty  God,  who 
alone  is  able  to  watch  over  and  bring  you  to  his  kingdom. — 
O,  may  he  bless  and  enlighten  you  as  to  your  duty,  that  you 
niJiy  live  a  devoted  and  usefu^  life.  We  are  all  well,  and 
all  join  in  giving  our  love  to  you,  and  your  dear  wife,  and 
her  relatives,  praying,  if  we  should  never  meet  each  other 
on  earth,  we  may  be  so  unspeakably  haj)py  as  to  meet  in 
heaven,  to  receive  a  crown  of  glory,  where  we  may  mingle 
our  friendly  souls  in  praising  God  forever,  through  Jesus 

Christ.  .    

"I  am,  dear  son, 

I  "Your  very  affectionate  father, 

-  "William  LiGHTON." 

Having  continued  to  improve  as  an  -  xhorter  for  about 
two  years,  with  the  advice  of  my  brethren,  I  obtained  a 
license  to  preach  at  a  quarterly  meeting  conference,  held  at 
Lisbc«i,  April  25,  1829,  the  Rev.  John  Lord  presiding  elder. 
With  this  renewal  of  my  commission,  I  felt  the  vast  impor- 
tance of  honoring  it  to  the  glory  of  God.  May  he  forbid 
that  I  should  ever  be  slack  in  warning  the  wicked  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come.  Save  me,  O  Lord,  from  every 
principle  of  error,  from  the  love  of  the  world,  and  from 
every  thing  else  that  cannot  bear  to  be  tested  by  thy  holy 
word,  and  by  the  things  of*  eternity. 

After  receiving  my  license  as  a  preacher,  I  again  wrote 
to  my  parents,  acquainting  them  with  the  interesting  fact. 
They  returned  me  the  following  answer  the  next  Decem- 
ber:— .   .-»*^j4^.., ..,.■.■.—--■-■     -"■'---      ■ 

!  r 

"  Framktow,  near  Boston,  August  8, 1829. 

"  Dearly  beloved  Son, 

^'I  began  to  think  the  time  long  since  I  received  a 


LIFE   OP   WILLIAM  B.   LlOnTON. 


183 


L-='tters  from  home. 


»» 


letter  from  you  ;  but  the  time  has  ai'rived  in  which  I  have 
received  yours  :  it  came  to  hand  August  7th,  1829.  Nothing 
gives  me  more  satisfaction  than  to  hear  from  you ;  believe 
me,  my  son,  when  I  say  it  is  a  happiness  I  enjoy  above 
every  other  pleasure  of  the  Avorld.  Yes,  thank  God,  I  can 
now  retire  to  my  closet,  and  hold  converse  with  my  dutiful 
son,  while  I  read  your  epistles.  O,  what  a  delightful  hour  ! 
How  much  I  am  obligated  to  praise  the  Lord,  who  has  per- 
mitted me  to  see  this  moment !  TliC  pleasure  I  have  re- 
ceived from  perusing  your  kind  letter,  has  animtited  and 
filled  my  soul  with  such  exquisite  happiness  as  words  cannot 
express.  And  why  all  this  joy  and  gratitude  but  because  I 
have  reason  to  believe  my  long-lost  son  is  found  ;  that  you 
love  God,  and  the  way  of  life  and  salvation ;  but  above  all, 
that  you  are  favored,  by  God's  blessing  and  mercy,  with  the 
privilege  of  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  Son  of  God  ?  O, 
this  is  too  much  for  a  father  to  bear  !  So  thoughtless  were 
you  about  your  soul  before,  and  so  regardless  of  friendly 
advice,  and  leaving  the  bosom  of  friends  and  home,  as  you 
did, — who  can  help  rejoicing  ?  Ah,  who  could  have  thought 
of  such  a  change  ?  Truly,  *  with  God  all  things  are  possi- 
ble.' 'V        '  .  :.   .  -  ^  ^ 

"  With  this  feeling  of  soul,  I  eagerly  seize  my  pen  to 
communicate  with  you,  in  the  form  of  a  letter,  and  hasten  to 
lose  no  time  in  so  pleasing  an  employ.  I  have  much  to  say 
by  way  of  encouragement  to  you ;  but  I  cannot  express 
myself.  Let  me  advise  you  to  be  humble ;  abstain  from 
every  thing  that  does  not  bear  the  impress  of  that  blessed 
gospel  you  profess  to  preach.  Live  near  to  God,  and  then 
I  have  no-  fears  concerning  your  prosperity  and  usefulness. 


M"; 


,//4.»M*<f      '^JlUi'     ^i^'-T:^ 


«  «  «  « 


184 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGHTON. 


The  author  urges  hi*  parents  to  emigrate. 


"  May  the  God  of  peace  be  with  you,  and  keep  you  from 
all  danger  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

"  I  remain  •    '  ,    , 

"  Your  most  affectionate  father, 
■     *  .„.    .         "  William  LiGHTON." 

The  contents  of  this  letter  filled  me  with  the  highest  con- 
cern for  the  general  happiness  of  my  father  and  his  family, 
and  I  wrote  to  him  an  impressive  reply,  urging  him  very 
strongly  to  emigrate  to  this  country,  and  begged  him  most 
seriously  not  to  delay,  but  to  proceed  hither  forthwith. 
One  of  his  answers  to  this  appeal  is  as  follows  : — 

I     .        Frampton,  Ocfoier  31, 1831. 
"My  dear  Son,  -4^ 

"  I  received  your  most  greatful  and  intelligent  let- 
ter, dated  June  10th,  and  am  truly  enamored  with  your 
simplicity  and  kind  treatment ;  it  breathes  a  sincerity  too 
powerful  to  be  doubted,  that  fills  me  with  true  parental  af- 
fection and  sincere  respect  to  a  loving  and  dutiful  son  now 
in  a  transmarine  state. 

"  I  received  your  kind  invitation  with  warm  emotion,  and 
should  like  to  come  to  America  to  pass  the  rest  of  my  life 
with  you  in  your  free  republican  country,  where  peace  and 
retirement  alone  can  be  found  to  refresh  and  relieve  the 
suffering  sons  of  oppression.  But,  my  son,  the  thought  of 
leaving  home  and  friends  to  traverse  the  ocean  in  quest  of 
a  more  free  country,  at  this  age  of  my  life  might  be  probably 
an  imprudent  step.  I  know  not  what  to  say  any  further  upon 
the  subject,  but  would  give  you  my  hearty  thanks  for  your 
kind  in.'itation,  and  pray  the  Lord  he  may,  by  his  divine 
influence,  bring  us  to  heaven,  where  waves  and  billows 


LIFE  or   WILIJAiM   B.  LlOnTOJC. 


185 


Their  refuaal  and  the  reasons. 


>» 


let- 


shall  no  more  rise  between  us^  to  obstruct  tis  from  the  eti' 

joyment  of  our  beloved  fraternity. 

«         «         «         ».«        #         *         «'« 

:  "  Your  most  affectionate  father,  ■,   ..'         i.  . 

i  «i  .i  ij;r»  "William  LiGHTON."     >;    : -^i 


''J 


Finding  that  my  letter  did  not  produce  its  intended  ef- 
fect, but  merely  set  him  to  ixiflocting  upon  my  proposition, 
I  wrote  again  upcMi  the  same  subject,  to  Avhich  I  recei\'ed 
the  following  reply  : —      .     . 

■     :s*^,.\.-*'  TRAyiTTOit,  September  ^,  IS^2. 

« Affectionate  Son,   .     >    -^  "^   v^   *    ,         '        -    '' 

•  "  Through  the  blessing  of  God,  we  received  your 
communication,  dated  April  24th,  1833.  Your  argument 
for  me  to  come  over  to  you  is  very  strong  and  sincere  ;  but 
I  cannot  at  present,  determine  so  as  to  give  you  any  deci- 
sive satisfaction  about  the  subject.  Yet,  let  me  tell  you,  my 
dear  son,  the  ties  of  parental  affection  are  so  strong  as  al- 
most, at  times,  to  induce  me  to  resolve  ripon  the  undertak- 
ing. I  should  be  very  happy  to  sec  you  all,  and  to  enjoy 
sweet  solace,  and  end  my  days  in  your yVte  and  happy  coun- 
try, and  in  the  bosom  of  an  affectionate  and  greatf'ul  son  ; 
but  tlie  distance  seems  too  far,  and  the  journey  accompanied 
with  a  degree  of  mental  anxiety  and  danger,  which  are  the 
only  ditKcnlties  that  seem  to  prevent  that  ha[)i>y  meeting, 
which  would  be  accompanied  with  all  the  feelings  of  an 
affectionate  father.  '.     '^    '      *"•'",  '?'       *:.         f^.' 

.(  "Our  country  is  progressing  in  oppression  and  wi*etched- 
ncss,  which  almost  induces  me  to  believe  its  fate  is  fixed. 
The  reform  bill  has  proved  a  dead  letter,  at  least  at  pro- 
sent  ;  in  consequence  of  this  failure,  the  people  have  turned 


186 


LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITOX. 


A  heavy  Ions. 


a  deaf  car  to  all  plans  of  reformation.  "What  will  be  the 
consequence,  I  know  not,  but  I  fear  it  will  result  in  a 
bloody  contest.  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us,  and 
deliver  us  from  the  evil.  W3  are  all  in  sentiment,  as  usual, 
and  enjoying  good  health.  Accept  our  love  and  best  wish- 
es. "Write  at  every  oi)portunity ;  and  may  the  propitious 
smiles  of  our  heavenly  Father  attend  you  and  your  be- 
loved family  forever,  which  is  the  prayer  of,  dear  son, 
"  Your  most  affectionate  father, 
♦  .  "William  Liguton." 


3 


About  April  of  this  year,  1833,  I  was  visited  with  a 
very  serious  affliction  in  my  temporal  circumstapces,  and 
thus  most  effectually  taught  the  mutability  of  all  earthly 
things.  For  five  years  I  had  lived  in  tlie  connubial  bond 
with  the  utmost  content  and  hapi)i»ess.  Providence  had 
blessed  me  with  a  young  family  of  three  children,  a  son 
and  two  daughters.  Being  located  in  a  situation  where  my 
trade  was  of  but  little  service,  and  feeling  disposed  to  de- 
vote myself  to  it  more  exclusively,  I  concluded  to  sell  my 
farm,  and  establish  myself  where  it  would  be  of  more  val- 
ue. ,  ' 

I  sold  my  farm  to  a  Mr.  M'Bain  Jamison,  a  man  who 
had  hitherto  been  upright  and  of  whose  honesty  I  hod  not 
the  remotest  doubt ;  lience  I  confidently  reposed  my  prop- 
erty in  his  hands  with  no  other  security  than  his  notes. 
Knowing  he  had  obtained  the  command  of  my  farm,  some 
poor,  miserable,  notorious  wretches  influenced  him  to  sell  it 
and  leave  the  country.  He  did  so,  and  out  of  seven  hun- 
dred dollars,  the  price  of  my  little  farm,  I  lost  five  hundred 
and  twenty-five.  He  proceeded  with  his  family  to  the 
west  where,  tcr  aught  I  know,  he  is  at  present. 


LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  fi*  LlGlitOK. 


187 


ft 


wlio 
not 


some 

3llit 

tiun- 

Ired 

the 


Moral  effect  of  temftoral  trin>. 


Rertections. 


This  unfortunate  occurrence  threw  me  into  deep  trouble ; 
it  come  like  a  winter's  cloud  over  my  mind,  and  darkened 
my  rising  prospects  of  comfort  and  prosperity.  However, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  I  was  enabled  to  pursue  a  course 
which  in  every  respect  promoted  my  welfare.  Though 
somewhat  involved,  it  can  be  said,  to  the  honor  of  my  credi- 
tors, that  they  never  injured  so  much  as  a  hair  of  my  hetul. 
Truly,  the  lord  is  merciful  and  good,  in  that  he  overrules 
every  thing  for  my  peace.  I  truly  pity  the  man  who  I:i- 
jured  me,  and  those  who  influenced  him ;  and  M'ith  all  their 
gain  I  am  still  better  off  than  they,  lor  I  possess  a  con- 
science clear  from  guilt.  My  prayer  to  God  is,  that  they 
may  repent  of  the  evil  they  have  done,  and  be  saved. 

The  ensuing  fall  I  hired  a  house  in  the  town  of  Landaff, 
about  five  miles  from  my  former  residence,  where  aided  by 
the  smiles  of  an  iiidulgcnt  Heaven,  I  have  been  blessed  far 
beyond  my  expectations  with  food  and  raiment,  and,  what 
is  better  than  all,  with  spiritual  prosperity.  Truly,  my  loss 
has  been  sanctified ;  it  has  taught  me  the  utter  fallacy  of  all 
earthly  dependences,  and  led  me  to  trust  supremely  in  Him 
who  is  the  well-spring  of  life,  and  whose  resources  never 
fail.     ,  \  J'    '  -  '        .  ' 

Thus,  dear  reader,  I  have  presented  you  with  a  plain  un- 
varnished detail  of  the  events  of  my  life,  hoping  that  if 
you  are  still  the  subject  of  parental  government,  or  in  youj. 
minority,  you  will  learn  to  be  careful  how  you  treat  lightly 
the  advice  of  you  parents.  Let  all  mj/  difficulties  be  bea- 
cons to  warn  you  of  the  dangerous  shoal.  O,  beware  of 
folly.  Shun  every  appearance  of  evil.  Give  your  heart 
to  God ;  in  all  your  ways  ocknowledge  him,  and  he  will 
direct  your  paths.  ^'  ;  -.  ' 

I  rejoice  in  being  permitted  to  close  this  narative  on  my 


i 


:M 


168 


LIFE   or    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


VVhnt  is  ilcHth  ? 


birth-day.  Thirty  years  have  rolled  over  my  head!  they 
arc  gone  forever !  O,  what  wonders  God  has  wrought  for 
me,  through  all  the  years  of  my  short  life !  I  have  had 
my  lot  of  sufferings  and  difficulties  from  the  hands  of 
wicked  and  unfeeling  men.  I  have  felt  their  frowns  and 
their  wrath  ;  but  God  has  interposed,  rescued  and  saved  me 
from  every  evil,  and  brought  me  to  a  land  of  liberty  and 
peace ;  he  has  given  me  dear  and  affectionate  friends. 
Truly  God  has  been  my  refuge  and  present  help  in  time  of 
trouble,  and,  with  all  my  unworthiness,  my  trust  shall  be  in 
him  for  evermore ;  ere-long  and  I  shall  sleep  the  sleep  of 
death.  O,  that  the  Savior  may  be  in  my  heart,  and  that  the 
strength  of  God  may  sustain  me  in  a  dying  hour,  and  grant 
me  a  triumphant  resurrection  to  a  glorious  immortality. 
May  my  life  on  earth  be  henceforth  spent  to  the  glory  of 
my  blessed  Master.  May  my  labors  for  precious  and  un- 
dying souls  cease  only  with  my  life.  May  He  so  teach  me 
to  number  my  days,  that  I  may  apply  my  heart  unto  wis- 
dom. A  few  more  fleeting  years,  and  what  a  change  !  what 
new  scenes  will  burst  upon  my  ravished  vision  !  While 
living,  changes  will  await  me,  and  when  I  die,  I  shall  see 
as  seen  by  Him,  and  know  as  known  to  Eternal  Wisdom,  to 
the  Ruling  Spirit  of  the  universe  !  and  O,  what  a  change  ! 
to  become  an  inhabitant  of  the  world  of  spirits ! 

•'  Thou  must  expire,  my  soul,  ortlained  to  range 
Through  unexperienced  scenes  and  misteries  strange  ; 
Dark  the  event  and  dismal  the  exchange. 
But  when  compelled  to  leave  this  house  of  clay,  ' 

]  And  to  an  unknown  somewhere  wing  thy  way  ; 
When  time  shall  be  eternity,  and  thou  .     v 

Shalt  be,  thou  know'st  not  what,  nor  where,  nor  how, — 
Trembling  and  pale,  what  wilt  thou  see  or  do  ?  T 


LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.   LIGIITOX. 


isa 


DollKhtH  of  ImniortalUy. 


Amazing  state  !  No  wonder  that  we  dread     ^     ' 
The  thous^hts  of  death,  or  faces  of  the  dead  :       -^ 
His  black,  retinue  sorely  strikes  our  mind, 
Siekness  and  p.'iin  before  and  darkness  all  bt-hind. 

Some  rourleoiis  ghost,  the  secret  then  reveal ; 
Tell  us  what  you  have  felt,  and  we  must  feel. 
You  warn  us  of  approaehint^  death,  and  why 
Will  you  not  teac'-  us  wiiat  it  is  to  die  ? 
But  having  shot  the  gulf  you  love  to  view  ^ 

Succeeding  siiirits  ])lunged  along  like  you  ; 
Nor  lend  a  fri'mdly  hand  to  guide  them  through. 

When  dire  disi-aso  shall  cut  or  age  untie. 
The  knot  of  life,  and  sutler  us  to  die — 
When,  after  some  delay  some  tremblitig  strife, 
The  soul  stands  quivering  on  the  riiige  of  life, — 
With  fear  and  hope  she  throbs,  then  curious  tries 
Some  strange  hereafter,  and  some  hidden  skies." 


■•-Mr-.^- 


^1 


Nonnis. 


■  But,  O,  if  I  am  pvopared  for  such  a  change,  how  delight- 
ful it  will  be  to  awake  from  death,  to  be  immortal,  and  live 
forever ! — to  be  among  immortals,  to  renew  those  associa- 
tions with  dear  relatives  and  friends,  which  have  been  sus- 
pended for  a  season  !  I  can  carry  no  tidings  thithei*,  for 
the  affairs  of  this  world  are  known  to  disembodied  spirits. 
I  can  look  around  me  for  relatives  and  friends,  and  those 
refined  principles  of  love  and  joy  will  there  be  renewed  and 
enjoyed  Ibi'cver.  O,  happy,  happy  region  of  boundless 
bliss  !  There  will  be  no  changing  then  of  time  ;  it  will  be 
eternity.  O,  ETERNITY !  that  dreadful,  pleasing  thought ! 
I  shall  be  immortal !  But  shall  I  possess  a  crown  of  life  ? 
Here  rests  the  awful  pause !  A  crown  of  life  !  My  God, 
O  thou  eternal  antl  everlasting  Father,  hear  thou  a  sinner's 
prayer ;  lead  me  by  thy  good  spirit,  and  so  sustain  me  in 

17 


?f?B""'" 


190 


LIFE    OF   WILLIAM   B.   LIGIITOX. 


AiUirosN  to  the  reader. 


I.  ■■■''. 


my  course,  that  I  may  find  my  all  in  thee,  both  in  time  and 
in  eternity." 

And  now,  before  I  conclude,  let  me  ask  you,  reader, 
"What  are  thy  prospects  beyond  the  grave  ?  O,  what  are 
thy  hopes  ?  ITast  thou  a  well-grounded  hope  of  a  blessed 
immortality,  or  art  thou  still  in  thy  sins,  an  enemy  to  God 
by  wicked  works  ?  If  thou  art,  is  it  not  high  time  for  thee 
to  bethink  thynelf  on  thy  condition,  and  prepare  thyself  for 
the  great  event  of  thy  life.  Think,  0,  think,  how  soon  thou 
wilt  have  to  leave  this  sh6rt,  transitory  scene  of  existence  ! 
A  few  years,  at  the  farthest,  and  then  all  will  be  over  with 
thee  here,  and  thou  must  appear  a  naked,  disembodied  spirit, 
at  the  awful  bar  of  the  august  Majesty  of  heaven,  to  answer 
for  thy  conduct.  O,  let  me  urge  thee  to  fly  to  Christ ;  he  is 
thy  only  Savior  and  sure  friend.  Have  faith  in  his  merits  ; 
be  deeply  humble ;  live  in  view  of  eternity,  and  in  the 
solemn  consequences  of  that  vast  and  trying  scene.  Re- 
member that  if  you  neglect  to  walk  in  the  commands  of 
€rod,  *v  on  will  be  damned  forever.       % 

" Be  wise,  nor  make 

Heaven's  highest  blessing  venf^eance ;  O,  be  wise, 

Nor  make  a  curee  of  imniortalitf ! 

Say,  know'st  thou  what  it  is,  or  what  thou  art  ?  '  " 

Know'st  thou  the  impoi  lance  of  a  soul  immortal  ? 

Behold  this  midnight  glory  ;  worlds  on  worlds ! 

Amazing  pomp!     Redouble  this  amaze ;  .^  • 

Ten  thousand  add  ;  add  twice  ten  thousand  more  ;  ' 

Then 'weigh  the  whole : — one  soul  outweighs  them  all, 

And  calls  the  astonishing  magnificence 

Of  unintelligent  creation  poor."  "  '  '    ' 


Jj; 


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Let  thy  soul  bathe  itself  in  the  blessed  Savior— 

"  Sink  into  the  purple  flood, 
Rise  to  all,  the  life  of  God." 


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LIFE    OF    WILLIAM    B.    LIGIITON. 


191 


Btiiily  of  the  Itlltlu  ut\!v^. 


The  C'hrtstlan  nlltlru^tMC(l. 


Seek  and  retain  his  sacred  image  in  thy  lieart,  live  on  him 
by  holy,  conquering,  irresistible  faith,  and  thou  shult  be  saved 
in  heaven.  -  .•      •*         > 

Let  me  advise  the  to  a  constant  and  prayerful  perusal  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  acquaint  thyself  \vith  them,  as  thou 
wouklst  with  thy  chart,  wert  thou  lost  at  sea,  and  exposed  to 
perilous  dangers  near  an  unknown  shore.  Remember  the 
J^ible  h  the  star  of  eternity,  a  chart  to  guide  thy  frail  bark 
into  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  Make  it  the  constant  book 
of  thy  life.  .•  ,    -^  , 

With  holy  faith  and  prayer,  -    ' 

"  Read  God's  word  once,  and  you  can  read  no  more : 
For  all  books  else  appear  so  mean,  so  poor, 
Verse  will  seem  prose  ;  but  still  persist  to  read, 
And  God's  word  will  be  all  the  book  you'll  need." 

Never  lay  it  aside  because  thou  hast  read  it  over  and  over, 
or  because  it  may  not  be  altogether  so  congenial  to  thy 
natural  views  and  feelings ;  but  persist  in  thy  acquaintance 
with  it,  with  sincere  prayer  to  God  that  thou  mayst  fully 
understand  it.  The  Holy  Scriptures  are  of  indispensable 
use  to  thee,  as  they  teach  thee  every  thing  relative  to  thy 
salvation,  and  to  thy  duty  while  a  probationer  here  below. 
Let  the  dear  reader,  therefore, 

"  Read,  and  revere  the  sacred  page;  a  page 

Where  triumphs  immortality;  a.  page 

Whic'i  not  the  whole  creation  could  produce  ; 

Which  not  the  conflagration  shall  destroy  ; 

In  nature's  ruins  not  one  letter  lost."  .  ^    = 

Ignorance  and  neglect  of  the  Scriptures  are  the  prime 
cause  of  so  much  infidelity  and  irreligion  in  the  world.  In- 
stead of  men's  approximating  to  them,and  forming  their  lives 


ri 


'^'^^^■ 


193 


LIFE    OF    Wn.LIAM    B.   LIOIITOX.  -• 


Conrluslon. 


by  tlieir  unerring  authority,  they  set  up  their  own  systems, 
creeds,  and  notions,  and  foolishly  war[>  them  to  their  un- 
Runctified  designs.  May  God  grant,  dear  reader,  that  you 
and  I  may  come  to  the  light  of  (iod's  Word ;  if  we  are 
condemned  and  cut  off",  amen ;  but  lot  us  come  to  the  truth, 
ns  it  is  in  Jesus,  that  we  may  be  saved  in  heaven. 

Christian  reader,  awake  thou  to  thy  duty ;  sec  thou  hast 
every  thing  ready  and  in  order  for  tiiy  exit  into  another 
world,  lie  on  tl:y  post,  and  watch  against  the  summons  of 
the  Captain  of  thy  salvation.  See  thon  maintainest  family 
and  secret  prayer,  and  see  that  thou  boldest  daily  commun- 
ion with  thy  Lord.  Examine  thyself  as  to  thy  title  to 
heaven  and  happiness.  I)o?it  thou  live,  every  day,  a  holy 
and  devoted  life,  such  as  adorns  thy  i»rofession  ?  Hast  thou 
Christ  formed  within  thee,  the  hope  of  glory  ?  Hast  thou 
an  abiding  witness,  that  thou  art  a  child  of  God  ?  O,  in  a 
word,  art  thou,  in  the  strictest  sense,  a  true  Christian  ? 
Answer  thy  conscience,  and  0,  answer  truly  !  If  thou  art 
n<ft,  thou  art  in  the  broad  road  to  ruin  and  destruction  j  rtnd 
may  God  have  mercy  upon  thee,  and  alarm  thy  guilty  soul ! 
If  thou  canst  respond  in  the  affirmative,  go  on,  with  God's 
blessing  ;  and  may  thou,  and  I,  and  the  whole  Israel  of  God, 
be  so  unspeakably  happy,  as  to  be  saved  in  heaven,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     Amen. 

Now  to  the  ever-blessed  and  glorious  Thinity, — Father, 
Word,  and  Stirit, — the  infinite  and  eternal  One,  from 
whom,  alone,  wisdom,  truth,  and  goodness  can  proceed,  be 
glory  and  dominion,  forever  and  ever.     A^ien*    ,.;,  .,^ 


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